


Stereotypical Werewolf Fanfiction (Crack)

by InsaneWeasel



Category: Mianite - Fandom, Mianite Fandom, Mianite RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Crack, From my Wattpad works, GIVE US A FANDOM TAG AO3, Gen, Mianite Fandom - Freeform, People who die in canon die here, Supernatural - Freeform, Very crude humor, Werewolf/Vampire, cursing, mianite - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:47:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24319039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsaneWeasel/pseuds/InsaneWeasel
Summary: Jordan’s a beast—but he’s also Mr. Grumpy Sullen (and Tom is a twink—but an aggressive Twink—a dominant Twink. In fact—neither are top or bottom. There is no Tops. There is no Bottoms. Just lots of arguing.Just a Summer Camp. Getting lost in the woods. A mysterious visitor. And dreading when the Camp Director comes back.Tom gets lost in the woods after a frat house hazing and meets a rather attractive camp counselor. Will love blossom?
Relationships: Tom Cassell/Jordan Maron
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	1. Part I: The Camp Counselor

Tom had left the frat party in the middle of the bumfuck nowhere woods in a daze. He wasn’t leaving it entirely—he just needed an hour away from that drunken disaster taking place. He was buzzed and upset and one of his Frat brothers had done his worst to him. Outed him when he wasn’t ready to tell the whole world he didn’t mind sucking dick. 

It didn’t matter that Tom didn’t have a ride back unless he hitched it with his friend or that there’s probably a good amount of people who didn’t give two shites about that revelation—but Tom was done. It was done in a mocking manner—it was planned—it was done with the intent to hurt him. It didn’t matter that he was…okay, a _little_ more than buzzed and that he had no idea where he was going through these woods and didn’t have his phone or a flashlight on him and was likely going to stumble into a bear trap or a coyote—he was too mad to think.

He was admittedly upset too—but he couldn’t think about that with how goddamn angry he was. Swearing up a storm, he walked face-first into branches and drunkenly batted them away as he continued his angry trek through the woods. 

His trek began to slow as he became more sober. More chilled. And more tired. And as the night wore on, he could feel blisters forming on his poor bruised feet.

Tom sighed and leaned against a tree. It wasn’t cold—but a light drizzle had started and compared to the early ninety-degree temperatures, the high-sixties weren’t what he was expecting.

He should turn around and go back. Just forget about it until he was back. Then…Tom sighed. What could he do? The situation seemed so much worse. God—he hadn’t told his parents yet—not that he expected they’d care he was Pansexual. He had a preference towards women—but goddamn his soon to be ex-frat brother made it seem like he was entirely a gay twink. Not that there was anything wrong with that—but he wasn’t the slut his ex-friend made him out to be. 

God—he didn’t drop his pants every-time a chiseled gym-idiot with half the mind and half the respect for other humans came into his life.

He had just done that once—and that’s why he wasn’t doing it again.

Tom groaned—and took notice of his surroundings. Reflexively, he reached for his phone before swearing up a new storm of words when he realized it wasn’t there.

“Fuck me,” Tom swore.

He didn’t know where he was—and he didn’t know what direction to take to even get close to remotely near where the house was. They’d seen the edge of the woods on the highway here—so Tom decided hell with it—he’d keep walking. He’d probably hit the highway soon enough and maybe he could hitch-hike it out of there.

Tom stumbled through the woods—now a little more alert than before and got the strange paranoia that something was watching him. He looked around—a little more warily now. Did one of his frat-brothers follow him?

Tony might have. Tony and Josh weren’t dicks enough to let that shit affect their opinion of him. He was sure of that. “Tony?”

There was no response. Tom kept walking, but he kept his eyes peeled, glancing over his shoulder several times. “Fucking fantastic—it’s about to be a ‘murderer in the woods’ horror movie.”

A strange dry-breathy sound—somewhat animalistic and Tom spun around on his heel. There was nothing he could see in the nearly pitch-black woods. The moon wasn’t giving him more than a foot in front of him visibility.

“Fucking…” Tom muttered to himself and he picked up the pace. He stumbled into more trees and their branches and he was growing frustrated. And scared. He was starting to feel his heart beat a bit heavier and faster. He swore he heard footsteps behind him.

“Who’s there?” Tom snapped, turning towards the direction he thought the sound was coming from. He couldn’t see shit and it was starting to get to him. He couldn’t take it anymore. Tom ran. He tripped more than once, and he regretted his decision when he found a shortage of ground beneath him.

It was a steep hill and Tom didn’t catch his footing in time to prevent himself from taking a dive down the hill. Tom didn’t hit his head—but he was a giant bruise the moment he hit the bottom of the hill. Tom stared out at the lake and faintly—he saw dimly lit cabins. Soft yellow light falling from a few with their curtains drawn back and falling onto the grass.

Tom slowly pulled himself up, wincing and cursing under his breath—but the site of the cabins and the three-quarter full moon, dancing in the slight ripples of the lake. It was more than a welcome sight. It wasn’t the frat house—and he was sure that there was a good chance there was someone here with a phone. Hopefully no one shot him or anything thinking he was some sort of creep or serial killer.

The place was chillier than the woods—maybe because it wasn’t blocked off by trees and Tom shivered, shoving his hands in his pockets. A few yards away from the hill—Tom saw something he missed originally—a small fence. A large sign with bold red-letters proclaimed “Private Land. Do Not Trespass.”

Tom took it into small consideration before he climbed over the small wooden fence. 

He made his way around the lake, absently reaching a hand up to his cheek where he felt blood pooling from a scratch across it. There were other scratches on his arms, but none seemed too deep. Just grazes from branches and twigs on the ground. 

Tom was halfway through walking around the lake when he saw a bright-light growing steadily closer. Whoever was carrying it was holding it at his eye-level, effectively blinding Tom and keeping him from seeing just who was approaching him. Tom reached a hand up and shielded his eyes as the figure approached and said reproachfully, “Why are you here? This is private land.”

“I got fucking lost,” Tom said, and the figure took a step closer, shining the flashlight still in Tom’s eyes. “Can you point that somewhere else?”

“Go back where you came from,” the figure demanded.

Tom was tired of this shit. It was dumb, but maybe the alcohol was still in his system, because he took a few steps forward and pushed the figure’s flashlight down so that it shined somewhere other than his eyes. They reacted immediately, grabbing Tom’s arm and squeezing tightly. 

His apprehender was a man. They were around Tom’s age with thick arms and a glare. The moonlight told him that much. The flashlight was pointed at the ground—illuminating the bottom of the man’s green shorts and the soft brown loafers that shouldn’t be worn outside—or really, anywhere.

“Hey,” Tom yelped, “Chill. I just want to use your phone. I don’t have mine.”

“You just attacked me,” the man said affronted.

“You were shining the light right in my eyes,” Tom said, affronted.

“You’re intruding on private land,” the man repeated, and Tom huffed.

“Do you have a phone I can borrow?” Tom questioned, and the man continued to glower before he let go of Tom’s arm and shined the flashlight at Tom’s chest. He took in Tom’s appearance and wrinkled his nose.

“You smell like alcohol,” the man said.

“I had a rough night,” Tom snapped, and he similarly used the light to look at the man. He was wearing a black shirt with a bright purple and green logo in the middle along with text he could faintly read saying “Howling Woods Camp” and in all-caps and in a smaller font below it—“Counselor”.

This was likely a kid’s summer camp he just stumbled upon. Great. Just lovely. 

The man deduced something. “You’re with the Frat house—Alpha…Delta…” the man tried and Tom interrupted him. 

“Gamma Delta Epsilon.” 

The man looked at him. “Why are you here and not _there_?” he questioned, and Tom shook his head.

“Rough. Night. Shit happened—I got lost leaving that _shit_ ,” Tom muttered and almost immediately the man looked affronted.

“Language,” the man said sternly.

“Excuse-fucking-me?” Tom said.

“ _Language_ ,” the man repeated, “there’s kids around and I don’t need them repeating you.”

“It’s the middle of the night!” Tom said a little too loudly, gesturing around the lake and empty clearing. “Those cabins are all the way over there!”

The man didn’t even consider Tom’s words and just shook his head. The man considered Tom for a moment more before deciding upon how to handle this. “There’s a landline at the Mess Hall—come on,” the man said, and he pointed the flashlight off of Tom and to a path. “Walk in front of me.”

“How the he—” the man cleared his throat. “ _Heck_ am I supposed to know where I’m going.”

“Follow the flashlight,” the man said and Tom snorted. 

“Like a dog.”

It earned him a soft laugh from the man, but his expression quickly returned to the “intruder alert” glower and Tom did as he was told, walking in front of the man. The walk wasn’t as quick as Tom would have liked.

“Aren’t you cold?”

“No.”

“Loafers, really?”

“…”

“You’re going to get chigger bites.”

“…”

“A snake will probably bite you.”

“Not likely.”

“My name’s Tom,” Tom finally introduced and as expected, the man remained silent. Tom’s bladder decided now seemed like an opportune time to alert him. “Is there a bathroom in this Mess Hall?” 

He heard the man huff, but with a sharp inhale. “Do you have—”

“I’d prefer it to pissing in the woods,” Tom said and the man behind him sighed.

“Yes. Just don’t take all night.”

“We aren’t even there yet—and what do you think I’m going to do? Barricade myself in the bathroom and wreck it?” Tom sassed the man, but he didn’t get a response. They continued their walk and as they approached the campgrounds—Tom expected to see other counselors about—maybe this one and others were on night duty, but it was eerily empty. Tom voiced his thoughts.

“Where are the other counselors? Are you the only one out here?”

“It’s my job,” the man said.

“But this is a big fu— _freaking_ —property. You can’t just walk around the whole thing and catch everything,” Tom said, and the man snorted.

“Your concern is noted—I can safely say it’s not a problem,” the man said and almost with a bit of humor the man said, tongue in cheek. “I found you—didn’t I?”

Tom laughed—more out of surprise than actual humor. So, he wasn’t entirely devoid of humor. “What if a serial-killer snuck in? Ever seen Friday the 13th?” Tom said, and the man—annoyingly—was done with his humor.

“We’re almost there,” he instead said, and Tom took in the ‘Mess Hall.’ He had never been to summer camp and the relatively new looking building wasn’t fancy—but wasn’t a giant shack or wooden hut like he thought it would be. It was illuminated by bright lights on its exterior and Tom could see an office or something of the like with its blinds only halfway down with a dim lamp shining out of it.

The man stepped past him and Tom saw the man had presumably a nickname printed on the back of his shirt. Tom guffawed. “Sparklez?” It seemed to frilly of a name for the rather stoic and humorless man in front of him. The man quickly unlocked the door and chose to either pretend he didn’t hear Tom—or was too pre-occupied with turning on lights to give him a response. 

The Mess Hall had a small lobby area with old, but clean couches positioned neatly in a circle with an armchair off to the side and an electronic fireplace and a flat-screen TV sitting on the wall. For the rustic vibe Tom had first gotten from seeing the cabins—this place wasn’t anything like a “summer camp” he always thought of. Two double-doors were off to the side of the room with a sign that said “Cafeteria.”

The man looked less daunting and sillier in his outfit by the moment. The man’s dark hair was fluffed up—as if the man had either taken a similar tumble to his or just woke up. Or maybe never even brushed it. The man was muscular—or at least is arms were and Tom definitely took a moment to check the legs. The shorts almost hid it, but Tom saw definition and muscle there too. 

But his eyes went to the electronic landline which caught his attention more—relieved it was just an electronic household landline—rather than some old dial-up. He should probably call Tony but…Tom realized with a start he didn’t have their numbers memorized. No need to usually. With that thought in mind, he instead glanced around and noticed a gender-neutral bathroom in the corner and went to it instead, sparing a look at the man who was watching him with arms folded, but didn’t say anything.

Unnerved, Tom went inside the bathroom, locked the door, and took a look at himself in the mirror. God—he did look drunk and out of it. That—and as if he fought off a rather vicious tree. He splashed water on his face and cleaned the dirt off the cut before he went to the bathroom.

He took a few minutes after that dicking around. Not destroying anything like he said he would earlier but wondering faintly if he could avoid the whole “I don’t know who to call—I didn’t really think that far ahead” talk and facing the stoic guard of a man called _Sparklez_. He couldn’t. While he was taking the time to clean the cuts on his arm too—the man rapped on the door. Tom couldn’t ignore it as easily as he hoped; the man knocked like the Campus police intent on raiding for alcohol.

“Are you done?” the man questioned, and Tom sighed.

“Yeah,” and Tom unlocked the door, nearly walking straight into the man who stared past him at the bathroom before letting Tom move aside. “Chill,” Tom muttered under his breath.

He stared at the phone, but he picked it up anyway and tried to think of who to call. Mr. Impatient Sparklez was practically breathing down his neck as Tom’s fingers hovered over the numbers.

“What’s the problem?” he demanded.

“I don’t know any numbers by memory,” Tom said, and he was pretty sure the man cracked a little.

He didn’t say a word to give him credit and the man—to Tom’s surprise—left the room, or rather—went to a closet to the side of the room and began unlocking a small locker. Tom watched with mild interest as the man reached into the locker and pulled out a jacket—and then a phone out of that jacket. What was the man intending? An Uber? A Lyft? A cab? 

The man left the locker open and walked over to Tom with his own cellphone and dialed a number. Tom watched. Whoever the man was calling—it was clearly a friend.

“Could you get an Uber? Or a cab? I’ll…” Tom checked his pockets. He was not going to pay. “I can probably pay you back another time.”

The man ignored him—like he seemed to like to do. The man turned his back to Tom as the other end picked up. “Hey—Tucker? You going to be back any time soon?” Tom could faintly hear the conversation from the other side and the man’s hitch in breath. “Yeah—no, I understand. Yeah—yeah, it’s fine. I’ll call Martha.” The man nodded. “See you tomorrow.”

Without looking at Tom he immediately dialed another number and Tom grew bored. He turned his attention from Jordan and examined a shelf in the corner of the room. Almost immediately the man whipped around. “Don’t touch anything.”

Tom rolled his eyes and as he looked again, his eyes fell on a shiny plaque which was unreadable. He picked it up and stepped into the light of the room to read it. He could feel the man’s glare became swords rather than daggers. “What did I just—Martha.” Tom glanced at him and the man was turning away from him—shifting his phone to his other hand. “Yeah. Yeah—some frat boy from the Delta,”

“Gamma Delta—” Tom started, but the man didn’t even turn.

“Some University Frat house—the ones that were at the lake house.” Tom’s attention turned from the plaque back to the man. This camp knew they were staying here. They must not be that far apart. Tom was sure he’d been walking for a few hours—but maybe it was only a couple miles apart. “Yeah—says he got ‘lost.’”

“I did,” Tom said affronted and the man ignored him again. Tom returned the favor. He looked at the plaque as the conversation continued.

_Cabin to Show the Most Teamwork_

_In 2013_

_The Roaring Red Cabin_

And below in the shiny plaque was a small wooden frame with pictures of both boys and girls of ages ranging from what looked like seven to fifteen smiling happily or awkwardly—some making goofy poses—and some awkwardly trying to avoid being too big of a focus in the picture. Seemed standard enough. That would have been last summer. Tom put the plaque back as the man seemed to reach a conclusion in his conversation.

“Yeah—yeah. No I get it—it’s fine Martha. It’s not that big of a problem. _I’ll make sure_. He won’t be a problem. If he is…” Tom eyed the man suspiciously as the man cast a wary look at him before sighing. “He won’t be one. Tomorrow afternoon when Tucker gets back, he can drive him back to the lake-house.”

Tom crossed his arms as the man got off the phone, returning the same glower the man gave him earlier. The man wasn’t fazed. “I can’t leave the Camp right now and none of the other counselors can right now either. There’s a spare room in my cabin you’re welcome to. I’ll show you it and you’ll _stay there_ until tomorrow.”

That didn’t sound too bad. Actually, Tom was feeling tired and this meant he didn’t have to face his original problem or situation. “Yeah, sure,” Tom agreed. The man seemed relieved Tom wasn’t about to argue with him and Tom followed him as the man turned off the lights again, grabbed his jacket, and ushered Tom out before locking the doors. Tom stared at the office light still on. 

“Is there someone in there?” Tom asked and the man followed his gaze. He shook his head.

“I was earlier—I’ll go back there after I…after you get settled in the cabin,” Jordan said, and Tom nodded. The man still had yet to introduce himself to Tom—which made Tom more than a little nervous—but his energy was wearing down.

What if this man took advantage of him? That dark thought hit him hard and stilled him in his steps.

“So—I get this is a camp and all—and I’m trespassing, but what the hell is your name?” Tom questioned and the man looked at him strangely. He seemed put-off by Tom’s question for some reason.

“Are you scared of me?” the man asked, and Tom was taken aback.

How the fuck… “No—but you’re pretty freaky.”

The man just considered Tom strangely and then shrugged. “Well, my name is Jordan—and I don’t appreciate being called ‘freaky’ but seeing as you aren’t…” Jordan looked him over and Tom didn’t miss the way Jordan’s posture changed. He wasn’t holding himself up tensely and was actively avoiding touching Tom now. “Seeing as you’re tired—I understand you may feel paranoid. The door of the guest bedroom locks from the inside. There’s a master key somewhere—but none of the Counselors have access to it.”

Tom was _now_ rightfully scared of the man. He hadn’t shown the man any fear and now the man was suddenly psychic enough to drop his emotionless statue like appearance and become more or less “suspiciously friendly”. 

“I’m not fucking scared,” Tom nearly yelled and the man—Jordan—gave him a look. But almost as soon as he did, the look changed from disbelief to concern. Tom wasn’t the world’s greatest at reading people and maybe he was goddamn paranoid at the moment—but when his frat-brother showed that goddamn footage he hadn’t been wearing any evil looks either. 

“…Tom,” Jordan said softly, and Tom just glared at him. Jordan sighed and without another look at Tom he kept walking towards a cabin. Tom had half a mind not to follow him, but he didn’t really have an option. As Tom caught up with him, Jordan continued speaking. “Tom, I apologize for coming off harsh—but this is my first year in this position. I misjudged your intentions and thought you were dangerous. You felt…or well...looked pretty angry coming out of those woods.”

“Well I was—fucking am,” Tom said, shoving his hands in his jean pockets.

Jordan shook his head. “You’re not angry—you’re upset. Sad. Hurt. Not in the Jason murderous way, but…”

Tom found himself amused. “So, you did get that reference earlier? But what’s your deal anyway. Why are you the only one on guard duty…walking around in loafers and green shorts with a name like Sparklez on your back?”

Jordan sighed. “It’s a nickname.”

“Well no shit.”

“ _Language._ ” Jordan repeated again, and Tom just rolled his eyes.

“Sorry,” Tom muttered half-assed.

“We don’t have to deal with intruders often,” Jordan said.

Tom just nodded. Made sense. They were in the middle of nowhere. “So, every camp has a sort of motto and deal—what’s this one?” Tom questioned and Jordan just shrugged.

“Dunno.”

Tom heard the way his voice went up, but he didn’t mention it. Whatever. Jordan didn’t want to tell him the camp motto. Probably something embarrassing. “Do you go to college?”

“…Uh, yeah. Comp Sci major,” Jordan said.

“That explains the lack of fashion taste,” Tom decided, and Jordan just rolled his eyes. 

“You don’t look so fabulous yourself,” Jordan said, and Tom shot him a miffed look.

“Well I look better than you,” Tom decided.

“Sure,” Jordan said, and Tom couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or just placating him. Tom doubted it was flirting. Jordan stopped them in front of a cabin that was between two others and pulled out a key. Tom looked around as he unlocked the door and caught a cabin across from Jordan’s cracked open. Someone was watching through the door slit and when he made eye contact the small figure closed the door again.

“You have a cabin to yourself?” Tom questioned as Jordan turned on the light in the cabin. It was slightly larger than the other ones, but not by much. There were three doors branching off from the tiny living room. Jordan went to the one on the left and opened it, flipping on a light. 

“Here’s your room for the night,” Jordan glanced at him and his clothes. “I think I might have smaller clothes that’ll fit you.”

Tom took this time in actual light to fully look at Jordan. He had assumed Jordan was just big and the muscle was just some of the bulk—but goddamn he was wrong. One look at those arms and Tom was regretting all the more trying to knock the flashlight out of Jordan’s hands. Jordan could probably Hulk smash. 

He missed a glance into Jordan’s room as Jordan quickly reappeared, closing the door behind him and offering Tom a towel, sweats, and a shirt that was stained. Tom took them and Jordan sort of stood still for a moment, awkwardly shifted his feet, and then walked around Tom, back towards the door. 

“My room has its own lock, please don’t try breaking into it. I’ll be back tomorrow morning and Tucker will probably be back by noon. Until then, please do not leave the cabin. You may be…not a psychopath, but I don’t know you enough to have you around the kids,” Jordan said, and Tom nodded. He didn’t plan on wandering around tonight—but…in the morning. He wouldn’t object to sneaking into the Mess Hall for food. 

He watched Jordan leave who spared him another look over his shoulder before reluctantly closing the door. He locked it behind him and Tom eyed the switch on the doorknob. He let it be and drifted into the guest room.

It smelt stale and unused—which wasn’t awful, but it was far from preferable. 

Tom took a look at the clothes Jordan had gotten for him to change into. They were a size too being—but only one size so it wasn’t that big of a deal on the shirt anyway. The sweats were almost too ugly and baggy to consider wearing—but Tom guessed as sleeping pants they wouldn’t kill him. He stepped into the small bathroom Jordan had and winced. The sink wasn’t even in the bathroom—it was beside the bathroom and the shower couldn’t be accessed unless you closed the door.

From there—the door on the shower would have to be closed and it would be a tiny closet with steam and water. Tom regarded the toilet right across from the shower with distaste. He was being picky—but he had to give the tiny bathroom one thing—it was very clean. As if someone meticulously cleaned it every week. It also wasn’t an outhouse which was the whole vibe he’d get from a summer camp.

Giving up his meticulous inspection—that he admittedly started making sure there wasn’t a goddamn camera—he took a shower. Tom couldn’t explain his paranoia—but what his frat brother did—it would have been done with a hidden camera for him to have that footage.

Tom felt better coming out of it—and took survey of how much he was scratched up. He found a first aid box under Jordan’s sink and raided it.

Satisfied with his cleanliness and how he was patched up—he scanned the bed briefly—a cot with stiff sheets and an even stiffer blanket that smelled musty. He briefly checked for spiders. None appeared. Satisfied, he gave one last look at the door and checked that he locked it.

And once he was sure he wasn’t going to be murdered—he passed out. 


	2. Part I: The Camp Does Not Function Well

Upon waking to the bright sunlight, he found himself with a dull pounding headache. Not to worry there—he knew it was coming. He pulled out the ibuprofen he had stolen from Jordan’s first-aid box and dry-swallowed it. 

He lay in the bed a moment longer as the medicine entered his system before his growling stomach became a problem. Tom glanced around the room and at his discarded clothes before he noticed a clock on the wall. Seven-twenty-seven in the morning.

Tom groaned. Too early. The room had no curtains and the blinds weren’t much against the radiant sun. He could also hear children outside laughing and it chased away the drowsiness. Worse—he also heard birds twittering and calling out loudly which drove him from the bed entirely. He slipped into the bathroom, cleaned himself up best he could and eyed Jordan’s closed door.

Based on the loafers and jacket thrown haphazardly on the one chair in the closet of a living room—Jordan was back. Tom went back to the guest room, but he wasn’t able to sit still for more than a few minutes before he was bored.

Tom glanced at Jordan’s door and wondered if waking him up was worth it. Probably not, the man had been on night duty and wouldn’t rush getting Tom back anytime soon. Tom examined his clothes and deemed the shirt he had on beyond repair and the designer jeans a little…no they were fine. He’d get them cleaned. He was a pro at saving lost-cause dirty items. In fact, it was almost too funny how many of his frat brothers were aware of his laundry and cleaning skills.

_All the more he used against you to say you were queer._

Tom sighed and folded the jeans up and set them on the bed. Well—with Jordan down and his stomach growling, maybe sneaking to the Mess Hall wouldn’t be the worst of ideas. Tom quietly made his way to the front door and opened it slowly—despite hearing the kids earlier—no one was around now. 

Tom stepped outside and wished he had sunglasses almost immediately. Pills or no, his hangover did not enjoy the ninety-degree weather and the sun blasting him in the face. Tom sighed and shoved his hands in the pockets of the sweats and started heading back in the direction of the Mess Hall. He didn’t know what lie he was going to use—something along the lines of “Jordan said it was okay.” His progress was halted when a kid barreling at the speed of light nearly knocked him over.

“Get her away from me!” the kid cried, using Tom as a human shield as another girl approached just as fast. He had just enough time to see her bare feet caked in mud and a frightened snake dangling from her hand before the snake went flying and Tom had only a moment’s notice to bat the offending item away from his person.

“Come back here, Andor. You _wussy_!” the girl screeched and Andor took off running again. The girl weaved around Tom and went back to chasing the other boy, her braids flying behind her.

Tom stared after them and wondered what the hell these kids were on when someone more his age jogged up to him from the direction the girl had come from. “Alyssa has too much stamina,” she huffed. She gave Tom a second look—survey him. “So, you’re the stray Jordan found?” she said, smiling at him. “The name’s Sonja—Jordan and I are the ones holding this camp together until everyone in charge gets back,” she said.

“Tom,” Tom greeted, glad she was much more friendly than Jordan. “What’s the girl trying to do to the kid…Andor?”

“Who knows,” Sonja said, snorting. “She’s new to the camp and isn’t from around here like a lot of the kids are. I’d wager she’s jealous of Andor’s position,” Sonja said.

“Huh,” Tom said simply. “So—are they making breakfast at the Mess Hall—I’m starving,” Tom asked, and Sonja laughed.

“Yeah, they are. Come on,” she grinned, “We can use my position of power to jump the line of kids—they practically eat everything.” The Mess Hall was crowded, and they encountered another counselor as they made their way over. This counselor was consoling a crying Andor who was glaring from behind the counselor at Alyssa who was smiling victoriously. The counselor sighed in relief when Sonja approached. 

“Please, help,” the man said.

“Alyssa,” Sonja said sternly, and the pre-teen smiled up at Sonja before baring her teeth. Tom noticed how pointy those teeth looked. That girl was as feral as they came. “Are we going to have to call your father?”

“Dad doesn’t care,” Alyssa said. “I don’t get why Andor’s the Delta—I could knock him over with one hand,” she complained and crossed her arms. She glanced up at Tom and inclined her head. “You—you’re a neutral party. Which of us is better? Me or the loser?” Alyssa questioned and Tom found himself on the spot.

He just wanted breakfast. “You, I guess,” Sonja looked exasperated and Alyssa smiled wide.

“Exactly,” she said happily and Andor rolled his eyes.

“You can’t even—”

“Say it again and I’ll knock your teeth in,” Alyssa spat and the adults quickly intervened. 

“Hey, hey, now—Alyssa, how about you stay here with Sonja and…and I’ll just go get some food for Andor so you and him don’t have to eat in the same vicinity as each other,” the other counselor suggested and Sonja nodded approving of it immediately.

“Whatever,” Alyssa said and relieved, the other counselor left. 

Alyssa looked up at Tom curiously but didn’t say anything as Sonja guided them into the lunch hall. She gratefully left the problem child at the back of the line with the other children.

“So, what’s a Delta?” Tom questioned as Sonja was doing a quick head count of something. She turned to Tom—not quite looking at him, her attention elsewhere.

“Hm?”

“Delta? What’s that? Like an award…a camp position?” Tom asked and Sonja turned to him, moderately surprised. She looked him over as if he was suddenly sporting thirty eyes and her nose crinkled as she sniffed before shaking her head. 

“That son of a bitch,” Sonja snapped.

“What?” Tom didn’t follow, but he also smelled the eggs and bacon wafting from the entrance to the food-line that wasn’t yet open.

“Jordan lied to me—to the rest of us, I can’t believe that man,” Sonja said, and Tom could have let her fume, but her fuming was getting in the way of him and his breakfast.

“Hey—uh—what did Jordan lie about? I mean he told me he’d getting me a ride out of here from someone around noon—Tucker I think was his name. And I know he called someone named…uh…M…”

“Martha?” Sonja questioned, looking at Tom rather attentively now compared to before.

“Yeah,” Tom said, and Sonja sighed.

“Thank God, he’s not a total idiot. Why would he let your roam around?” Sonja muttered more to herself, but Tom heard it anyway.

“No clue,” Tom said, and Sonja looked at him before shaking her head. 

“Sorry, this isn’t your fault. And to answer your earlier question, it’s…a camp position of sorts. A lot of honor is weighed on it,” Sonja said and as the line opened, Tom’s thoughts went away from the lore of a small camp in the middle of nowhere to choosing the best foods for his hangover and stomach. Sonja was watching him, but he didn’t mind.

…

Halfway through his lovely breakfast, Tom swore he could feel Jordan’s stone-cold glare—and he was right, but only a few seconds early. Moments later Jordan walked through the cafeteria doors, homed in on Tom and made his way over, practically steaming at the ears.

Sonja took note and Tom hastily tried shoveling his breakfast down faster. 

“I told you to stay put,” Jordan snapped.

“I was hungry,” Tom argued.

Sonja looked between them before folding her arms and motioning with her head towards the doorway. “A word, Jordan. Privately.”

“We can’t just leave him here alone,” Jordan said, and Tom nearly choked on the bacon. Reflexively, Jordan hit him hard in the back—hard enough that it brought tears to Tom’s eyes. He swallowed down his orange juice as Jordan turned back to Sonja.

Sonja looked at him but nodded. She scanned the cafeteria now filling with kids and counselors. Her eyes focused in on one counselor in particular and she sighed. “Capsize?”

“Yes,” the woman said, turning from a child who was struggling to poke his straw into a juice-box. 

“Can you watch this...guest?” Jordan said and Capsize flashed him a grin.

“Anything for my favorite nerds,” Capsize said and Sonja didn’t waste a moment before dragging Jordan away as Capsize took Sonja’s seat.

“Is Capsize a nickname?” Tom said, his throat finally clear. His voice was a little gravelly after his choking. Capsize grinned—her hair was tied back in a pony-tail and she was wearing a bright red shirt and jeans. 

“Yup,” she said, “The name’s Rose—but I prefer Capsize to it, more fitting for my personality.”

“Upside down and sinking?” Tom questioned and Rose or rather Capsize shrugged.

“A good way to describe it,” Capsize and she looked Tom over. Humming she grinned. “Jordan’s clothes look hilarious on you.”

“I know right?” Tom said, tugging on the sweats. “They’re way too big and ugly. Does he dress badly all the time?”

“Oh yeah,” Capsize said laughing. “Trust me—I’ve partnered with Sonja to try and get him in something better—but he resists.”

Tom continued eating and Capsize sighed, leaning on the table. She glanced back at the kid from earlier and saw with a small flash of horror Alyssa had “helped” the kid—and encouraged the other children to do the same. The kids had poked the straw through the middle of the juice box and some were spraying each other with it. 

“Ugh,” Capsize said. “I met her father for fifteen minutes—and he’s…I can see where she gets it. I have a feeling if we call him he’s not going to be much of a help.” Tom turned his eyes to watch the girl and he shrugged. 

“She doesn’t seem that bad—I was that way at thirteen,” Tom said and Capsize shook her head.

“It’d be fine, but…just not how the camp works. We sort of pride ourselves on the proper behavior,” Capsize said and Tom snorted, finishing his orange juice.

“No wonder Jordan acted like I was the devil for stumbling into your camp half-drunk,” Tom said, leaning forward on the table. Capsize looked him over and smiled sadly. She re-tied her pony-tail and Tom looked forward just in time to see a child plopping down at the table across from him. 

It was Alyssa.

“Heard you were talking shit about me,” she said, flashing a grin at Tom.

Capsize let go of her hair and froze mid-movement. “Alyssa—language. You’re going to be on cleaning duties again if you keep talking like that.”

“My dad’s not a bad parent—he adopted me. Don’t talk about me like I’m just a spoiled brat,” Alyssa said and helped herself to Tom’s bacon he hadn’t finished. He didn’t stop her, and she flashed her sharp teeth as she chewed on it. 

Capsize didn’t have a response for that, but Tom did.

“How long has he been your dad?” Tom asked and Alyssa said with her mouth full of food.

“Four years—he’s never been a parent before and I don’t think he had parents either,” Alyssa said, and Tom nodded. He didn’t understand, but he’s willing to give her the listening ear. “He sometimes doesn’t know how to handle me. But he’s kept me regardless, unlike Foster parents.” 

“Alyssa…” Capsize said softly and she bared her teeth at the woman.

“Don’t give me sympathy. You’re like the rest of them—Tom’s the only non-judgmental one here,” Alyssa said.

Alyssa left the table, drifting away and Capsize gave a look at Tom before getting up from the table. “Sorry, I have to go after her. Jordan and Sonja will be back soon.”

Tom watched her leave and absently took his plate and glass to a small dishwasher area where immediately they were sorted among others. He was about to return to the table when his attention was caught by a rather loud game taking place at a table with the older kids. There was no counselor with them and they had a pack of cards on the table. 

Tom drifted closer and watched as a card was slowly slid into the middle of the table and there was a pause, and then seven different hands slapped down trying to get to the card first. There was a groan and a glorious shout from one person who was already amassing a pile of cards.

“Just a reminder—because if anyone wants to sabotage or give all their cards to someone _other_ than,”—the speaker stopped as no one looked ready to do that, “…Fine. Just know that whoever wins,” said one of the kids, “gets the pot. First chance on shower and the stash of contraband. And the loser has to do a prank on whatever counselor the second-place winner chooses.”

The dealer appeared to be the person speaking, and they slid a card in the middle of the table and seven hands came down again. This time with a different victor. Tom found himself watching the game, distracted from returning to the table. He ended up watching it until the deck ran out and the teens quickly laid down their cards and began counting. 

Tom decided to get a closer look and see who the winner was as first place grinned and a kid with two cards shook his head. 

“Alright, lay it on me, who am I going to prank?”

The second-place winner, a dark girl with streaks in her undercut grinned. “Hm…who would be the worst…”

“Tucker would freak out the most,” one of the kids offered.

“Sonja wouldn’t punish him.”

“How about Jordan?” Tom offered for the kids and the teens turned to him before turning to each other.

“Hell no,” the kid that lost said in a loud whisper. “That’s impossible. And he’ll murder us all.”

The second-place winning girl grinned satisfied. “You have to prank Counselor _Sparklez_.”

“Ooo,” the kids hummed.

“It’s a death sentence!” the dealer said in awe. “Terrific!”

The second-winner grinned. “Thanks for the idea, pretty-boi. Are you Jordan’s boyfriend?”

The teens suddenly became a lot more interested in Tom and Tom shook his head. “Uh…no.”

The teens didn’t look convinced. “You’re wearing his clothes aren’t you?” the dealer said. “The name’s James. That’s Furia—and our loser trash right there is Matt. Our winner is Phil. And the rest of them are all trash too.”

“Shut up.”

“James, you’re going to wake up a blonde if you keep talking trash.”

Tom was too busy snickering to notice a presence sneaking up behind—or rather just walking up behind him. There was a hand on his shoulder and a warm, and also muscular chest at his back. “What’s going on here?”

The teens exchanged looks and Furia snickered behind her hand. “Nothing, sir.”

“Tom, you didn’t stay at the table,” Jordan squeezed his shoulder and Tom winced. This was not a friendly gesture.

“So…Jordan…” James started, the fifteen-year-old casually laying down the cards. “Can you confirm a bet among us that Tom’s your boyfriend or…”

Tom could feel Jordan’s huff and the rapid beating of his heart as the anger rose in the man’s chest. But he didn’t say anything, and instead just steered Tom away as the teens started laughing. Jordan rubbed his temples and gave Tom a look. “Why can’t you just do one thing I ask, right? What did you say to them?”

“Nothing,” Tom said defensively. Jordan just shook his head. “Come on—you’re going back to the cabin and _staying_ put.”

“That’s boring,” Tom said.

Jordan gave him a steely look. His hand didn’t leave Tom’s shoulder. It was almost possessive, but in truth, controlling. God, he did have a type. Guess Gym-Buff was a type—but Gym-Buff-Cranky-Counselor should be a separate category. Apparently, his dick didn’t care for attitude—goddamn sexuality needed more layers. His dick should know better than to be attracted to cranky-counselors. 

It’d help him think less about what those hands could do in a better situation if Jordan let go. 

“You want to…uh…let go?” Tom questioned.

“You’ll disappear again if I do,” Jordan pointed out and he steered the man back out of the Mess Hall, but they didn’t get far. They were encountered by Capsize who was rubbing her forehead. She started to say something, but spotted Tom and shook her head.

“We have visitors—and not the good kind,” Capsize said and Jordan tensed. 

“Frat boys?” Jordan said, almost hopefully.

“Try…Dianite.” Capsize said and Jordan’s grip on Tom locked down hard. Ow.

“God, why now?”

“He heard Ianite was gone.”

Jordan sighed. “Put a movie on in the movie room and let the teens pick. We’ll keep them in there while Sonja and I talk to him,” Capsize nodded and disappeared back into the Mess Hall and Jordan sighed. He steered Tom back to the cabin, but he hesitated. On the porch of the cabin Jordan paused and fished a hand around in his pocket. Deciding something, he handed Tom the key which Tom wasn’t sure what that was supposed to mean.

“Keep the door locked, would you? Don’t open the door for anyone until I get back,” Jordan said and Tom just looked at him.

“What the hell is wrong with your camp? Who’s Dianite?” Tom questioned, but Jordan just shook his head. 

“Just stay in the cabin. This time. Please.”

And like that—Jordan left. Tom entered the cabin and was lost for a moment, standing in that small living room with a key. Fine, he’d stay put. Tom locked the door and sat on the one chair and looked at the key.

“What the hell did I walk into it?” Tom muttered to himself. He was starting to think this camp was running some sort of shady business. They had so many levels of secrecy. About what—Tom didn’t know.

Tom curiously checked Jordan’s bedroom door—for no good reason—but none particularly bad ones. Mostly ones like “what’s in there?” and “any chance he swings my way so I can feel less mortified?” 

What he found was Jordan’s room was military clean—just like the bathroom. There was a small mess, where it looked like Jordan had thrown on clothes at the speed of light and gotten out of there to see where Tom went, but other than that—spotless.

It almost…invited Tom too look around.

He wasn’t going to touch anything. Except…his hand reached out and grabbed the remote before his head told him no. Jordan had a remote to…a TV. And bingo—Jordan had an XBOX 360 sitting there. Nice. Tom peeked around the area and found a small shelf with organizers and there were various game titles organized alphabetically. 

Tom giggled at Minecraft.

Nerd.

What kind of dweeb plays _Minecraft?_

On XBOX 360 nonetheless.

Tom scanned through other titles—his rating of Jordan changing as he considered his gaming choices. Some were decent enough, some were highly acceptable, there was a few he knew nothing about, but that Minecraft was killing the rating.

It wasn’t even _PC Minecraft_.

Tom hummed. It wasn’t Mobile Minecraft…so he supposed Jordan wasn’t complete trash. He left the console and games be—thinking how he’d like to play his own, but he left it back at his house when he moved out to college.

Stretching and popping his back, he examined Jordan’s closet and found it…bare—except for jackets. Did Jordan seriously store shirts in his dresser-drawers.

Tom checked it and almost gasped horrified.

It all looked the same.

A big mass of black and gray with only one or two other shirts breaking the solid black mass. He even had identical copies of shirts. That was unforgivable. You buy the same type of socks—black—so you can dress fancy without ever worrying about losing pairs, but not…the same shirt. Not if it’s not a dress shirt. Making a disgusted noise, Tom checked the drawer. Looking for jeans. For something that was redeemable.

He was greeted by more shorts. And sweats. 

He was going to die.

There was one. One single pair of black jeans.

Tom sighed in relief.

That was too much. Tom closed the drawer and left Jordan’s room quickly. If he kept looking, he’d likely find a textbook and “light” reading and annotations. Jordan was that kind of Engineering student. That kind that was just…Tom gagged.

Terrifying. Truly.

Tom sighed. He checked his own room where he had thrown away the shirt and left the jeans in the morning and found his jeans—although still dirty—had been folded.

Tom unfolded them and put them back on the floor.

He couldn’t have that. Jordan was either OCD or definitively meticulous about stupid things. If he was stuck here, he wasn’t going to let Jordan live comfortably stiff.

Tom sighed, sat in the one chair facing a shelf in the living room and laid his head back. It was the middle of the day, maybe a little later, but what was he supposed to do? Tom was just thinking of maybe setting up Jordan’s XBOX and the cost-benefit analysis of that kind of action when he heard a soft knock on the door.

  
He hadn’t forgotten what Jordan said, but he had a feeling it wasn’t a threat.

It wasn’t.

It was Alyssa. She put a finger to her lips and motioned for him to let her in.

He opened the door wider and let her in as she said nothing to him, before closing it behind them and locking it. 

“So, Tom, you have no idea what’s going on, right?” the pre-teen started with.

Tom didn’t. But he wasn’t sure he should tell a little girl that. Shouldn’t he be the adult here? Tell her he was aware. If this was an emergency, he didn’t want to freak her out.

“They’re meeting with Dianite…” Tom said, using the only information he amassed.

Alyssa rolled her eyes. “I know that—I’m asking if _you_ know. Or understand,” Alyssa stressed.

Tom shook his head. “Internal affairs?”

Shaking her head, “Good. You don’t know—you’re completely…” she stopped, looked Tom over and nodded. “Yeah. That. So, you’re going to help me—or else,” Alyssa demanded, and Tom just stared at thirteen-year-old. 

“What?”

“You’re going to help me—or else,” she said.

“Want to expand on that?” Tom asked.

She looked at him. “You. Will. Help. Me. Or—” 

Tom shook his head. “Tell me what I’m helping you with.”

“Nuh-uh,” she said firmly. “Come on—we’re going,” the pre-teen said, and she wrapped her small hand around Tom’s wrist and yanked. He was expecting a pull, but not to be nearly thrown off his feet.

“Jesus—are you on steroids,” Tom questioned, and the tween chose not to answer him. Tom stopped her at the door, holding out the keys in answer when she looked at him. “Let me lock the door at least,” he said, huffing.

“Why—it’s not like anyone would try and actually _go_ in Counselor _Glitter_ ’s Cabin?” Alyssa said, but she left it open ended. Maybe in the small amount of time—she had caught wind of what the fifteen-year-olds were planning. 

Tom looked at the door, sighed, and left it unlocked as she dragged him along. Guess he should help those kids out. Alyssa dragged him in a very odd path, guiding him in seemingly the same direction of the Mess Hall, but a lot sneakier. 

“You aren’t supposed to be outside the Mess Hall?” Tom questioned. 

“No shit—no one is if someone like Dianite is here,” Alyssa snapped. 

“Language,” Tom said, mimicking Jordan’s voice and tone.

Alyssa snickered. “You do a better American accent than he can do for a British,” she pointed out and Tom grinned. 

“Helps living with frat boys,” Tom said, and she rolled her eyes.

She suddenly shushed him. He couldn’t see why—they weren’t that close to the Mess Hall and there were no counselors standing outside. Not like anyone could hear him. She paused for a moment as if straining to listen. Tom heard nothing.

Carefully, she motioned with her head and guided Tom to a smaller cabin past the Mess Hall with a sign saying, “Visitor’s Center.” It was outside the fence and had a few parking spaces and Tom could see a winding dirt road leaving the place. He opened his mouth to make a comment, but Alyssa shushed him again. Tom continued to let her drag him, her tight and painful grip not really up for debate.

He wasn’t sure why—but for some reason he believed her “or else” was actually pretty lethal compared to the average thirteen-year-old. Alyssa guided them close to the fence—but she suddenly stiffened, and she paused, wrinkling her nose.

“It’s him, alright.”

Tom couldn’t see through those windows and had no idea what the hell she was talking about. “Do we need to get closer?”

Alyssa bit her lip. Thoughtfully, she nodded—but then shook her head. “He’ll notice.”

“Who?” Tom questioned.

“Jordan.”

“How the fuck would Jordan notice?” Tom questioned and Alyssa just shook her head.

“You’re an idiot—you really don’t know,” Alyssa said.

“That’s he’s a guard and gym freak?” Tom questioned and Alyssa just sighed.

“Fine, we’ll go closer. Might as well ruin it all,” Alyssa decided and without allowing Tom a comment she swung open the gate of the fence and dragged Tom through it with her to the door of the Visiting Center. It had a window in the door that didn’t reveal much. He could see a few chairs and a closed door. Nothing happened, and Tom was still left wondering what Alyssa’s paranoia was for. 

“So?” Tom questioned.

Alyssa chewed on her lip. “Hm. I want to hear their conversation.”

“Why?” Tom questioned and Alyssa glared at him.

“None of your business. Ask again and I’ll give you the ‘or else’ of earlier,” she growled, and Tom believed the feral child. They stood there, eying the door.

“You go in—tell him nothing of my involvement. Maybe he won’t notice me over your awful stench.”

“I showered last night,” Tom argued, but she just shook her head. 

Alyssa stuck her tongue out and he glared down at her and their mild argument ended up interrupted, by an odd and almost terrifying feeling someone was right behind them. Alyssa spun around before Tom and tried to hit the man. Tom felt it was his duty to stop the fiery of the young tween before she attacked what appeared to be a sun-burned and forty-something farmer looking type who was staring at them in amusement.

“What’cha you mates doin’?” the farmer questioned.

“We’re going to kick your ass,” Alyssa spat, and Tom had to use two hands to keep her from lunging at the stranger.

“Spying,” Tom said truthfully, and the farmer considered him, tilting his head. The shade of the hat covered his eyes.

“Well—aren’t you a stranger to these parts,” the farmer remarked. He offered his hand, “The name’s Steve.”

Tom let go of Alyssa with one hand and offered his hand to the farmer, “Tom.”

Surprisingly, the farmer’s hand was ice cold. He wasn’t sure what to make of that. Alyssa snarled, but stopped her attempts to attack, glaring at the two’s handshake.

“What are you doing here?” Tom asked, curious and the farmer laughed.

“Oh, waiting on my boss inside, Dianite. He came by to check on the camp—was worried how it would be fairing with the director gone for over three weeks now,” Steve said, and Tom started to notice his drawl was an odd mix. Somewhat Australian, somewhat Southern. 

Alyssa glowered up at the man, and Tom cut in before she could say something rude to him. “Huh—well. I just got lost—my frat party was staying up at the lake house around here. Our college is a decent drive away. Last big party before we all go separate ways for the summer.” 

Steve grinned, and something about his teeth bugged Tom, but they were gone too quick to figure what. “Ah, I remember my college days. Well—we may have to check on ‘em. We rent out those lake houses. We own property not too far from this camp. We are very _good_ neighbors.” Steve grinned again and Tom had a sinking feeling he was missing something very big. Steve patted Tom’s arm and paused as his phone started ringing. “Looks like I’ll need this call. Hey, Tom—if you need a ride back to the lake house, I’ll be glad to take you after Dianite finishes up.”

Tom should feel relieved and take that offer up, but… “Nah, Jordan set up a ride for me. I’ll just…wait on that,” Tom said, and Steve shrugged, answering his phone and walking away so Tom couldn’t hear his conversation.

“Tom, you shouldn’t have told him about your frat,” Alyssa hissed. “Great—just look what damage you’ll have caused.”

“He’s a…farmer?” Tom questioned.

Alyssa shook her head. 

“Well, you’re in—” she was interrupted as the door to the Visitor Center opened. Jordan looked more than stressed out; his eyes still full of cold daggers and swords. Those swords grew to spears at the sight of Tom. Jordan didn’t bother holding the door for the well-dressed man behind him and immediately stalked over to Tom and Alyssa, and he straightened his back, almost trying to add a height advantage.

Tom mentally snickered at that. He was a short man and Jordan clearly was in the same boat as him there. 

“Why. Won’t. You. Listen. To Me,” Jordan enunciated and practically growled at Tom. Like—Tom was pretty sure that last part was actually just pure growling. Like a dog. Or wolf. Or car engine. Tom looked to Alyssa and Alyssa mimed cutting her throat. 

There was no help from the tween that put him in this mess. 

“So, Mr. Maron, I do hope you’ll see my offer favorably,” the well-dressed man—likely Dianite said, and Jordan turned away from Tom, crossing his arms as he stared up at the much taller man. Dianite was easily six-foot-five and Jordan’s foot of height difference was comical. 

“I’ll tell you if my mind changes,” Jordan spat and behind Dianite, Tom saw Sonja watching cautiously from the door of the Visitor Center. She eyed Dianite with distaste. 

Dianite’s eyes went to Tom and Tom found himself almost enchanted by the maroon eyes staring at him. He had to admit—those eyes looked a lot cooler than any normal eyes he’d ever seen. It’s almost liked he was being compelled to stare into them and focus on them. His thoughts were interrupted by, again, Jordan’s hand on his goddamn body. Like Jordan was making it so hard for him to think straight when he put his hand in the middle of Tom’s back like that.

“Ah, I see you have a guest,” Dianite said smoothly.

Jordan didn’t answer and Steve was approaching Dianite, standing next to him as he slid his phone back in his pocket. “Kid says he got lost. I offered to give him a ride back to the lake house,” Steve supplied and Dianite’s eyes glittered, but Tom still couldn’t entirely focus on them anymore with Jordan’s hand now curling around his side. It was warm. Gentle. And entirely possessive this time.

“It’s fine, we’ve got it covered,” Jordan said.

And that’s when everything made sense.

Because Steve’s hat slipped upwards, purposely at the same time Dianite grinned fully. “See to it— _pup_ —that you do.”

And those were unmistakably fangs. Like actual fangs. And Steve’s eyes were glowing red. And it was terrifying. And what the fuck was that. 

What the fuck were they?

What the fuck did he mean, pup?

The two men left in their cars and Jordan almost immediately dropped his arm, sighed, and just glared at Tom. “I’ve about had it with you.”

“What the fuck were those—vampires? Were those vampires—and you…”

Jordan’s face went white and Sonja just sighed. She closed the door to the Visitor Center, clearly not wanting to be the one to explain any of this. Alyssa, from her place off to the side, looked very glad this was the way things were going and watched almost gleefully. 

“You’re a werewolf,” Tom guessed.

Jordan stared at him.

“N-no,” Jordan said. 

“Yes,” Alyssa said. “Everyone, but you, at this camp is.”

Jordan looked at her, almost in a reproachful glare, but he sighed. He rubbed his temples and said, “Look. I can assure you that I am not a werewolf and nothing supernatural is going on here,” Jordan said, his voice going up in pitch. 

Tom stared at him. “So…are you like Alpha—because I’ve noticed you have this protective…” Jordan ended up cringing and he shook his head. 

“Fine,” he admitted. “I’ll explain it all to you. But first,” he glared down at Alyssa. But Tom could see now—Jordan’s ‘glare’ was that akin to a sheepdog. It was more corrective than angry. 

“Where are you supposed to be?” Jordan questioned.

“The Mess Hall,” Alyssa said, glancing off to the side.

“Why aren’t you?” 

“Oh…you know, I’m going there now,” Alyssa said, but she was still a bit snarky about it. She waved Tom goodbye and ambled back to the Mess Hall, making a big show about opening the door to it as Jordan still watched her until that door closed. They stood in silence for a moment and Jordan’s shoulders fell.

“We’ll explain it at my cabin,” Jordan decided.

Jordan—once again—was avoiding touching Tom. Despite his earlier practically handsiness—(it was a longshot, but Tom was now re-evaluating if Gym-Buff-Cranky-Counselor-Werewolf was still on a list of ‘hot’ or was Jordan no longer even an option). They didn’t walk in silence, because Tom wasn’t going to stop these questions that were not hitting the forefront of his mind.

“So…Alpha…Beta…Omega…” Tom listed, and Jordan shook his head, frustrated.

“That’s not at all how werewolves work.”

“No? Then why does everyone write them that way?” Tom questioned.

“Because it’s a psychology thing—I don’t know, Tom. I’m not an English major, I’m a Comp Sci major.”

“But you’re a werewolf.”

“I’m not a werewolf history and literature expert,” Jordan muttered exasperated.

“So…what are you?”

“Epsilon,” Jordan answered.

Tom stared. “What does that mean?”

“It means my sole job,” Jordan said, drawing out his words, “is to protect the weak from danger.”

Tom took that in, swished it around in his mouth, then realized what Jordan was frustrated about. “You _have_ to protect me, don’t you?” Tom questioned, and Jordan just looked at him pointedly. 

“My job would be usually to protect just everyone else here, but _you_ were _invited_ in. Martha told me treat you as a guest which makes it my obligation to protect you just the same, but all you do is throw yourself in danger,” Jordan spat. 

“That’s hardly my fault,” Tom said, gesturing the werewolf. “You’re clearly part of the issue. If this had been a normal camp they would have called an Uber.”

“We can’t let strangers near this place,” Jordan pointed out and Tom rolled his eyes. 

“You suck at your job,” Tom pointed out and Jordan’s hackles rose, and he glowered at Tom. 

“As I said before, in a different context, it’s my first year.”

“What were you before this—did you have a position?” Tom questioned and Jordan sighed as they reached his cabin door. He went to unlock it—paused—and then reached his hand out for the keys. Tom handed them to him. 

“No,” Jordan said, scratching the back of his neck. “It was easier then—it was easier before you were here,” Jordan said pointedly and as he unlocked and opened the door, a bucket of lake-water splashed onto his head, from where it had been rigged hanging above the door. Jordan immediately pulled his phone out before the water could soak through to it—tossed it onto his chair and then turned and looked at Tom—algae sliding off of his soaking wet hair and onto the floor.

Tom tried not to laugh.

“You didn’t lock my door, did you?”

“No,” Tom said. “Must have forgot.”

Jordan slammed the door in Tom’s face, and locked it behind him, leaving the frat boy standing defenseless out in front of the cabin. Tom stood there, growing concerned that he was actually just disowned by Jordan, but a few moments later Jordan unlocked and opened the door, sighing with a towel over his shoulders and let Tom enter the cabin.

Tom took a seat in the one armchair and tried not to eye Jordan’s shirtless chest as he walked past.

Jordan sighed, reached up and toweled off his hair and went into his room, pulled out a shirt, and threw it on as he came to face Tom again who found himself guiltily staring at Jordan’s abs. It was hard not to. He was sort of just standing there, flashing Tom the view.

“You’re a gift from the devil himself,” Jordan muttered under his breath.

“I’m a gift,” Tom cockily retorted.

“You’re a nuisance,” Jordan corrected himself and Tom.

Jordan leaned on the wall and looked at Tom. “You have twenty minutes—I’ll answer any questions until then. Then I have matters to deal with, and Tucker _should_ be back. And you are leaving. Back to the main town, the college.”

Tom narrowed his eyes. “What about my lake house; my phone and shit is there.”

Jordan twitched. “Well, since you put it that way—you’re going back to the college.”

“Protective instinct—huh. You think those…vampires?...” Jordan nodded. “You think those vampires are just going to go on a murdering spree just, because they know the lake-houses are full of college students?” Tom questioned and Jordan snorted.

“You think they won’t? They’ve done it before.”

“Then why haven’t I heard about it.”

“Over a decade ago—bonfire gets out of control. Kills thirty college students in their sleep. Experts say it was caused by neglect and careless efforts to tend the fire,” Jordan listed off.

“So?” Tom questioned.

“Drain thirty bodies. Use the fire to hide the evidence. Create evidence of idiocy. Pay off the journalist,” Jordan explained.

“No one could just get away with that,” Tom accused, and Jordan huffed.

“I’m not going to try and convince you that vampires successfully murder people,” Jordan said.

“And who says werewolves don’t?” Tom questioned, and he didn’t miss the way Jordan tensed.

“We don’t.” Jordan said quickly, his voice pitching.

Tom stared at him suspiciously. Jordan shook his head and gestured with his hands.

“We don’t. Not on purpose. I mean…a few of us might have when we were teenagers. Transitioning. Not all of them do…but some…don’t have a good place and you know…feel awkward. And lash out. And accidentally eat someone,” Jordan said. “Look—that’s why this camp exists. It helps if werewolves grow up among other werewolves so they get it ingrained in them by the time they transition that they can still be coherent humans in a wolf form.” 

Tom continued staring at him and Jordan raised his hands. “I didn’t eat anyone.”

“You didn’t eat anyone?”

“I ate one person.”

“One…”

“One and a half—but the other half was already dead. And the one…you know, they weren’t probably going to live. Probably.”

“So…”

“I mean, it was a car-crash and I was fourteen. You know—transitioning werewolves get very confused about what’s food and what’s not food,” Jordan said. “It’s why they eat so much. It helps if they eat as much as they can when they’re starting to transition—it helps them not get strange urges to eat people.”

“So, werewolves don’t eat people for substance like in urban legends?” Tom questioned, still disturbed over Jordan’s answer—but not sure how to react. Jordan was still very hot, just…eating people was kind of a turn-off.

“Well—most packs try not to,” Jordan said off-hand. “My old pack…”

“You’ve ate more than one-and-a-half people, haven’t you?”

Jordan just shook his head. “We aren’t like vampires, Tom. We can think like other humans. I haven’t eaten any humans the entire time I’ve been at college. Werewolves can change,” Jordan said, and Tom didn’t miss the way Jordan was now glaring at him again. 

“So, why should I trust you again?” Tom questioned, and Jordan sighed. 

“Look—Tom. That’s why I was given this position. My new pack leader…and currently missing pack leader…thought it would help me if I had a responsibility to protect the weak. I’m not going to eat you. Or anyone at your frat for that matter,” Jordan said.

“Unless they threatened you,” Tom pointed out and Jordan shook his head.

“No. I wouldn’t eat them.”

“You wouldn’t, or you can’t.”

Jordan twitched, and he just glared very large swords at Tom. “It’s not important.”

“So, what I’ve gathered. This is a summer camp full of blood-thirsty young werewolves and I just walked in and you almost ate me, but realized I was weak and felt a responsibility to protect me and don’t like me,” Tom surmised.

“I don’t not like you,” Jordan said.

“You like me…?”

“…I’m obligated to tolerate you.”

“You find me…”

“…” Jordan looked on the verge of giving him a compliment. “Difficult. Mouthy. A nuisance.”

“Anything good—because if we need to, I can tell you that I find you more than prudish, freaky, and stuck-up for a werewolf.”

“Looks like those twenty minutes are up,” Jordan said, and he sighed with relief. “When I say stay here—I mean it.”

“I don’t really want to,” Tom said and nearly fell out of the armchair as Jordan actually stalked over to him, stood over him and glared down at him. Then Tom’s mind went gutter and his eyes went south.

Those sweats—even now smelling of algae and lake-water had slid down a few inches. And he could see the start of hair and a nice couple of defined lines. Tom’s mind went so far South he was about to jump the border into Mexico and could almost imagine reaching his hand out and just pulling down…

Tom’s eyes went back up where he made eye contact with the glaring Jordan. 

“Hey…Jordan…one last question?”

“What, Tom?”

“Are you gay?”

Jordan gave him a kind of…look. Like not any particular emotion was in his face. Just. He was looking at Tom. And he followed Tom’s early eye sight and his face slowly turned red and he pulled his shirt down over the sweats.

“…I prefer women,” Jordan said, and he promptly left. 

Tom wasn’t taking that as a complete no. Jordan had left and he was feeling conflicted. Disobeying Jordan again wasn’t wise, and he had no real reason to leave the cabin, but you know. It was already a trend so what did it matter if he left again?

Tom thought about it—and then left.

Jordan had been waiting right outside the door and one quick motion pinned him up against the door.

“What did I just say?” Jordan hissed.

“…” His mouth was inches from Tom’s, and it was killing him.

“Tell me what I just said,” Jordan said, pressing himself closer to Tom.

Holy fuck, what was he supposed to say again. Jordan’s chest was pressed against him and if Tom focused enough he was pretty sure he could feel Jordan’s dick.

“I’m gay,” Tom said, the only thoughts on his mind were that his type was petite but curvy brunettes and gingers, and man-eating-werewolf-gym-buffs.

Jordan just blinked. Realized their position and took a four-foot step back.

“Tom…” Jordan said slowly.

“Yes.” Tom said, trying to hide the fact that he missed half the conversation.

“I really. Really. Hate you. In a lot of ways right now.”

“Same,” Tom said, thinking about how this was going to reappear in his dreams—he meant nightmares. Definitely nightmares.

Jordan let out a loud huff, rubbed his temples and his long-sharp swords evolved into a guillotine. Jordan glared at Tom with guilliotines—well, no. That just doesn’t even sound good. Tom couldn’t even spell guilotines. Maybe he was better off upgrading from blades. Jordan glared AK-47s at Tom.

“You know what. I give up. Darwinism, Tom,” Jordan snapped and left Tom standing outside the cabin. Tom watched the man stalk off towards the Mess Hall and rolled his shoulders back. He noticed something out of the corner of his eye.

The fifteen-year-olds from earlier were hiding around the side of the cabin, having been watching. They appeared, all exchanging various comments and looks that they didn’t explain to Tom. James smiled triumphantly at Tom. “So, you’re dating, right!”

“Nah,” Tom said. “I’m human.”

“I knew it!” Furia said and put out her hand to Phil who promptly high-fived it.

“You’re making Counselor Sparklez super aggro,” Matt said. “He’s going to snap and just wolf-out.”

“Who will he eat when he does that?” Tom questioned, expecting a laugh and instead they all just stared at him dead-face.

“Dude, it’s taboo to talk about werewolves eating people. It’s like having been suicidal in the past and stuff like that. You just don’t talk about it,” Furia said and Tom looked after Jordan.

“So, like…anxiety?”

“Yeah, yeah that’s what it’s like. Besides—it’s not like…those people even really…like…suffer. I mean most wolves go through the throat or the chest. I bet they didn’t even notice being torn apart and mauled,” Phil muttered. 

“Yeah—werewolves are smooth killers,” James reassured Tom and Tom just stared at the pack of fifteen-year-old werewolves.

“You guys are really reassuring,” Tom said sarcastically.

“Thanks! So, are you crushing on Jordan or something?” James questioned.

“You’re too young to be digging into my personal life,” Tom said, and James turned to his friends. 

“Yup. Clearly Jordan’s rubbing off on Tom in more ways than the smell,” James said and immediately Tom checked his shirt to see if he smelled bad or something.

No, still deodorant smell. Why was everyone talking about the smell? Was there some weird werewolf spaying or whatever it is that cats did? Spraying? Spaying’s where their parts are cut off. Did Jordan just get werewolf musk on him or something? Gross. 

But also, was Jordan like into him…

Like if Jordan was, he’d need to stop being an asshole. Tom did not do more than casual flings with asshole Gym-Buffs.

And that was only one-time.

And so, Tom did _not_ do that.

But still—Jordan would really need to control that anger issue if Tom actually pursued him. Tom sighed and just sat outside the cabin, leaning against the door. He didn’t know what to expect, but he supposed he should just wait for Jordan to come back with the guy named Tucker, so he could leave. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting all these at once since this is an old fic. Only right.


	3. Part I: Camper

Tom ended up waiting around a half-an-hour, watching the fifteen-year-olds rigging something under the steps of another cabin before disappearing towards the lake. It was hot out, and he was starting to sweat when Jordan came by again.

Jordan seemed mildly impressed and relieved Tom had literally not left.

“Thank-god, you listened to me,” Jordan muttered.

“So, do you have a ride for me?” Tom asked.

“No,” Jordan said, and sighed. “Tucker isn’t going to be able to get down the road and no one is going to be able to leave.”

“Why is that?” Tom questioned, and Jordan groaned.

“Well. Now those vampires know they can an easy meal…they might have knocked over a few…dozen trees that now cover the one road here. They’re not even hiding their intentions.”

“How many vampires are there—besides those two?” Tom questioned, shocked.

“A dozen,” Jordan said and surprisingly sat next to Tom.

“Really? And you can’t take ‘em?” Tom questioned and Jordan shook his head. 

“Vampires are a little stronger.”

“Well…can we go rescue some of my frat brothers I like—like Tony and Josh?” Tom questioned and Jordan shook his head.

“I’m not leaving the camp. I can’t,” Jordan said, and he dug his fingers into his hair. His shoulders stiffened, and Tom could practically see the stress building on him.

“So, what was the offer Dianite gave you?” Tom questioned, and Jordan laughed dryly.

“That’s private,” Jordan said, head still down, as his knuckles turned white—still gripping his hair. Tom sighed. He started to feel a little sorry for the werewolf.

Seemed like he had a lot of issues.

“Want to tell me inside?”

“No.”

“Want me to help you with the stress?”

“How?” Jordan questioned, shooting RPGs at him. 

“I could give you a blow job,” Tom offered.

Those weren’t even daggers and Tom knew it. Jordan wasn’t even glaring at this point—it was almost consideration. Consideration daggers. Jordan opened his mouth. Closed it. “… _No_.”

“You sure?” Tom questioned.

Jordan shoved his head into his hands and groaned.

“You could give me a blow job,” Tom also suggested.

“I would bite your dick off,” Jordan growled between his hands.

“Very weird kink you have,” Tom muttered.

“That was a threat, Thomas,” Jordan groaned again between his hands. “God, you’re insufferable.”

“But you’d still have to have my dick in your mouth to do that,” Tom pointed out and Jordan lifted his head up. He looked between tearing Tom’s throat out or ripping his own out. Sighing, Jordan leaned back against the wall of the cabin. “This is hopeless.”

“What’s everyone doing with those vamps being nearby?” Tom questioned.

“Staying within the fence walls and continuing as normal. As long as no one invites the vampires into the fence we’re safe,” Jordan said, and Tom nodded. That made sense. He also leaned against the wall, watching as Jordan’s eyes went unfocused staring off into the distance.

“You okay?” Tom questioned.

“No,” Jordan said.

“Well, you’re not that bad of a werewolf. Short. Temperamental. Aggressive. But okay,” Tom said and Jordan snorted.

“You really want to know what Dianite offered me?” Jordan said, staring forward. 

“Yeah,” Tom said—not really knowing what to expect. It’s not like him knowing the info changed anything.

“To leave this pack. Be a werewolf for the Vamp Coven. Werewolves and vampires can ally…it’s actually beneficial with werewolves that eat humans. Gets rid of evidence. We can digest human bones,” Jordan said, and Tom found himself surprised.

“Would you like that?”

“Eating humans isn’t a good thing, Tom,” Jordan pointed out.

“But you used to do it,” Tom said.

“Doesn’t mean it’s good,” Jordan said.

“But you like it,” Tom pointed out, and Jordan shut his eyes.

“Liking eating people doesn’t mean I should do it. Human flesh gets werewolves high,” Jordan said and Tom patted Jordan’s leg.

“Well…you’d be eating already dead humans…killed by vampires,” Tom reassured him.

Jordan looked at Tom and flashed a fanged grin. “You realize what eating people is. People. People like what you are. Humans,” Jordan pointed out.

“You can eat me out,” Tom said, finding that crude joke crawling from the gutter of his mind.

Jordan’s dark smile lightened. The man laughed. “Do you like flirting with danger? Do you _have_ a death wish?” 

“Sure. I mean, yeah,” Tom agreed. It did make him feel pretty good to tempt danger. Jordan was still looking at him and Tom’s eyes went to Jordan’s mouth.

“Well, good luck with that,” Jordan said, and he pulled himself to his feet. Tom nearly groaned. Come on. Jordan was his own cock-block. “I’m going to start patrolling. There’s going to be a blood fest tonight.” Tom pulled himself to his feet as well.

“Wait, the vampires are attacking tonight?” Tom questioned.

“Yes,” Jordan confirmed, stretching out his back. Tom grabbed Jordan’s arm. 

“You’ve got to help me save my friends!” Tom begged. “Like not all of them. Just like two people.”

“Why?” Jordan said. “I am no under obligation to save them.”

“Don’t you want to save some people! Prove you can get over your eating humans thing,” Tom offered. There was a tense moment where he imagined cinematic music and Jordan realizing the error of his ways. Key word, _imagined_. Jordan shook his head.

“No, I’m good. You have fun with that.” Jordan said. The man started walking away, just leaving Tom to his misery. Tom groaned. He couldn’t stand up against vampires—like come on. That wasn’t fair! Jordan would just stand by for a massacre!

“But I’ll be in danger…and you have to protect me!” Tom tried.

Jordan threw over his shoulder gleefully, “You surrender your safety the moment you leave. If you’re feeling generous, you can surrender the sweats and go back in those jeans.”

“Jackass,” Tom muttered. “I’ll show you. Let’s make a deal, dickhead.” 

Jordan reluctantly turned to face him, crossing his arms, and leaning back, regarding Tom with a look of distaste.

“Look. _Look_ ,” Tom said, gesturing and he mimicked Jordan’s stance. “If I save these two friends, bring them here, and don’t die—you pull that stick out of your ass and…and…” Tom thought of something. “You protect me and them. And…”

Jordan stopped him short, holding up a finger. “You’re getting ahead of yourself. Should you live and miraculously convince two people to trek into woods you can’t navigate, and I don’t _accidentally_ mistake you for a vampire while I’m patrolling—I think it’s a fairly big mercy to allow you and two more miscreants back in.”

Tom boldly stepped into Jordan’s personal space and due to Jordan’s lack of height advantage, Tom was able to return the glare of a Nuclear War Missile.

“Just that? I’m a mere ‘weak’ human. If I beat vampires and save people doesn’t that make me a better…Epsilon then you,” Tom bartered, drawling. He had him baited, resting his tongue against his teeth, still grinning.

He had riled Jordan—the man was feeling threatened and he grabbed Tom’s shoulders. Not painfully tight, but forceful enough to get the message across, and shoved him back, growling. Tom was 99% sure he was about to see a werewolf transformation.

“You…” Jordan snapped. 

“You can’t sit out a challenge, can you? Werewolf pride?” Tom questioned, egging him on as he caught himself. Standing up straight, he waited for Jordan’s next move. The man had turned his head to the side to avoid looking at Tom. He breathed angrily through his nostrils then exhaled, closing his eyes and slowly twisting his head back to face Tom.

“Fine—what else do you want?” Jordan snapped.

“…” Tom didn’t fucking know—he didn’t plan that. “…Uh…A favor.”

“No.”

“…A daaaaaaaaaate?” Tom tried.

Jordan stared at him funny. A cautious, yet reserved look that was hiding an emotion—not affection, but a lot of disbelief and anger. “You’re kidding me, right?” 

“I mean…I’m pansexual,” Tom said, and Jordan just stared at him. “What—it’s not like it will kill you?” Tom questioned.

“No,” Jordan admitted. Tom wondered if that look in his eye was consideration or was it… “But that will undoubtedly be the worst torture of my life and I will not be affectionate towards you at all”

Right. It’s that sarcastic look. Not the _Oh, maybe I’d let you bone me, Tom._

“Completely straight, huh?” Tom asked.

Jordan laughed dryly. “Tom—trust me. I’m not, I just genuinely do not like you. You _are_ a nuisance.”

Well that’s a let-down. Jordan wouldn’t mind having a cock in his mouth either, but clearly Tom didn’t meet his standards.

“Is this about the jeans?”

“No, Tom.”

“Is this because your super freaky werewolf ears overheard me sneaking through your room and criticizing your wardrobe and _Minecraft for XBOX 360_?”

Jordan gave pause. He looked Tom hard in the face. “I knew you were in my room—you literally touched everything. I could smell it—but really, my fashion sense? And Minecraft? Those are hardly unlikable—you know. It’s cheaper to buy things in packages and…”

“But Minecraft for XBOX 360?”

“…I…” Jordan started, stopped. “Yeah. Yeah—that one’s pretty—wait!” Jordan shook his head fervently. “No, I’m not giving you that. You were in my room and now you’re literally coercing me into a date with you.”

“For not fucking dying to vampires, Jordan!”

“I hope you fucking do,” Jordan said and then almost immediately covered his mouth. “Forking. Forking do.”

“Oh no—children gonna hear you, _Sparklez_.”

“Shut up. Go die already.”

“Get ready to buy me roses, Sparkly-dick, because I’m about to own some vampires,” Tom declared.

Jordan looked at him straight up and down before shaking his head. “I’ll make sure your dead body is burned—wouldn’t want someone to have to deal with you in death _either_.”

“I’ll haunt you, if I die,” Tom threatened as Jordan walked away, holding up a hand behind him as if to say “bye Tom—hope you die. Hasta la vista.”

Tom glared his own fleet of Roman soldiers into Jordan’s back and to spite Jordan—did not change into his jeans and stayed in the ugly-ass sweats Jordan owned. If he wanted them, he’d have to take them from Tom’s cold, dead body.

…

Tom ended up muttering under his breath about the stupid ass werewolf and his stupid ass frat brothers doing that shit that got him dealing with vampires and werewolves and now an annoying tween following behind him well past the fence as he trudged through the woods.

“Go back, Jordan’s going to blame me for this,” Tom hissed, throwing a twig at Alyssa’s legs as she easily followed him.

She responded by chucking a rock at his head that whistled past loudly before smashing into a tree. Suffice to say—Tom did not throw anything at _her_ , the feral child, again. “Why are you here?”

“Cause I want to be—you going to stop me?” Alyssa said.

“As a matter of fact…”

“I will break you.”

Tom wasn’t a fool—he believed that threat through and through. Sighing, “You suck—edgy little tween. If you had a laptop with you in this camp, you’d be that edgy, pre-teen god-modder,” Tom muttered. 

“Excuse me?”—Alyssa reached up and pulled her hair up messily in a failed attempt at a pony-tail. Tom knew how to tie pony-tails from having a sister and almost offered to fix it for her.—“Unlike you and Jor-dweeb, I don’t play that _Minecraft_ thing,” Alyssa said huffing, easily vaulting a fallen tree with her superior strength as Tom took the time to walk around it as he headed in what he was sure was the right direction.

“I don’t either,” Tom lied. He didn’t play that XBOX 360 nightmare, but he did play it. But only sometimes. And he wasn’t edgy. Or a jerk. And didn’t go nuclear and blow up and prank people for the hell of it. What was he, thirteen?

Though doing all of that was admittedly really funny and he sort of loved it…

No—disregard that—Tom clearly has never trolled, pranked, and driven calm people to insanity on Minecraft. That’s not true in this fiction-verse—this is all fiction.

_But Tom totally did._

“You’re going to get me killed by vampires,” Tom complained as she didn’t break a sweat going over most of this rough terrain. “Also—there’s a bunch of college frat boys. A little kid is going to stand out.”

“I’ll be taller than you by the time I’m sixteen,” Alyssa retorted. “And I doubt it. By the time we reach there it’ll be dusk—vamp feeding time.”

“Are we heading the right way?” Tom asked, suddenly worried he’d detoured them.

“Yeah,” Alyssa paused—and sniffed the air. “Yeah, I think so. I dunno. I’ve never transformed into a wolf yet so…like I’m a little behind on those skills.”

“Why not?” Tom asked, and Alyssa just looked at him. 

“You know how some girls don’t start having their period until—”

“Never mind, don’t want to know,” Tom said quickly, but Alyssa continued.

“Until their older—well that’s what they think is happening. Hormones or something. But no one here has ever seen a werewolf raised by a non-werewolf—so they think that’s the cause,” Alyssa rambled. “You know.”

Tom didn’t know. And he was still frankly disturbed by period blood. He didn’t mind picking up pads or tampons—but the actual substance was terrifying. It was just…ugh. He got shedding hair—but blood and the lining of your body. That’s nasty. Can’t they…I don’t know. Not.

“They don’t understand?” Tom guessed, having missed half her spiel. 

“Exactly,” Alyssa said relieved, making Tom pray to god he hadn’t just agreed with her on eating people. “I think I’ll be a great werewolf someday. When I transform—I’m going to beat the shit out of Andor,” Alyssa said, cracking her knuckles. “And then they’ll give me his spot and dad will try his best to make a cake, fail, pretend he didn’t fail—and buy me a cake.”

Tom didn’t understand her logic, but he got the sentiment. Sometimes you just wanted someone to be proud of you.

“Does your dad not show love?” Tom asked and Alyssa shook her head rapidly.

“Oh no, he does. He just…” Alyssa sighed. “I don’t know. Have you ever felt like you haven’t measured up to someone? Like they love you as you are, but you don’t love yourself as you are? You want to be more loved and respected by everyone—not just that one person?” Alyssa asked.

Tom thought on it for a second. “No.”

“Neither have I,” Alyssa said quickly. Her eyes dimming a little. “But I do feel like if I show I’m a better wolf they’ll stop treating Andor like he’s made of glass.” She looked up to Tom quickly, looking for his reaction and Tom nodded.

“Yeah, I mean, I don’t know much about Andor, but I think you’re good at being a werewolf. I mean if Jordan’s considered a good werewolf you have a lot of similar traits.”

“You really think so!” Alyssa asked, flashing the fangs.

“Yeah,” Tom said, and Alyssa looked proud. Tom now slightly understood her earlier topic.

“Alyssa, is your dad—Mot, right?—home a lot?” Tom questioned.

Alyssa shook her head. “He works a night job—always busy, but he’s still the best dad and tries really hard.”

“But do you feel like you have enough attention?” Tom asked.

“Of course, I do! He gives me all his!” Alyssa defended.

“But is that enough?” Tom questioned.

Alyssa thought on it. “No. Because sometimes I feel guilty for bugging him. Like he still loves me and will listen, but sometimes I think he over-works himself. He doesn’t eat or sleep as much anymore,” Alyssa said sadly.

“Is your dad a vampire?” Tom asked—even though that wasn’t his original theory—it seemed apt now.

Alyssa thought on it. “Well…Dianite did look fairly familiar.”

Tom froze and turned to look at her. That had been a joke, he hadn’t actually considered it a possibility. “You’re kidding me. You mean your dad shagged that dude?”

Alyssa scrunched up her nose and punched Tom hard in the stomach. “Ew—no. Don’t mention gross things like that. Ew. I don’t know what my dad does in his personal time. Don’t tell a girl that.” Her aim had been almost near Tom’s groin and he thanked the god above as it landed at his midriff, still sending that aching pain up into his stomach, but not nearly as bad.

Despite his growing theory that _maybe_ Mot sent his werewolf daughter to a camp conveniently nearby where a vampire he once met with lived _seemed t_ o say that Alyssa was either a knowing or unknowing spy.

Tom was leaning on the latter. 

Alyssa paused, leaned her head up and sniffed, “We’re close—and there’s vamps nearby.”

Tom looked around, slowing down in the fading light—but still day enough, the vamps shouldn’t jump the gun—and squinted. “Where?”

“Here,” said Steve, as Tom nearly walked into him, too busy squinting for vampires in the brush. Alyssa didn’t look surprised and Tom quickly halted before he all but walked into the vampire’s fangs. “Come for a right rumble?”

Tom looked the vampire up and down. “Yeah. Probably,” was his best answer.

The vampire squared him up. “Where’s Jordan?”

“No clue, he told me to go die,” Tom said honestly, looking in the vampire’s eyes. What was with vamp’s and weirdly magnetic eyes. They weren’t even that interesting. The vampire nodded, looking away from Tom’s eyes and Tom started to add to a theory that maybe vamp’s had some sort of eye-candy-esque compulsion. Alyssa was sizing up the vampire, growling quietly—too quiet for either Steve or Tom to notice. A very soft emo growl.

“Yeah, sounds about right—he’s a tough one. Why’re you going back to the lake house? I reckon Jordan told you what we’d be doing out here,” Steve questioned as Alyssa looked around, sniffing again as she identified more vampires.

“Oh, you know,” Tom started. He immediately looked to Alyssa for an answer, and she seemed rather unperturbed by the vampire in front of her despite growling at them plenty before. She was just looked around, clearly bored. “Just going to say ‘hi’ to two of my friends. Then go on a walk with them. Preferably back this direction.”

Steve looked Tom up and down and laughed. “Mate, you think you can walk into an area surrounded by vampires, slide up in and walk two of your ‘friends’ out.”

Alyssa’s growling piqued. “He can with me here,” Alyssa threatened.

Steve looked down at the young Were. “And you’re here again,” Steve said, recognizing the small girl. He looked at Tom again, “You know, mate. It says something when you use a little girl as a shield…”

Tom stopped him right there and gestured at Alyssa. “Shield? She won’t leave me alone—she goes everywhere I go—making Jordan think I’m the cause of her misbehavior.”

“Uh-huh, sure, mate,” Steve said, looking at Alyssa.

“Apparently her dad is shagging your boss,” Tom spat under his breath, and Alyssa punched him—this time lower than the midriff. Tom felt that one all the way to his shoulders and wheezed, slumping as he all, but cried.

Steve became a lot more interested in Alyssa. “…Should have known,” he murmured, shaking his head. So, you’re Screziato’s kid,” he asked, as Tom rolled slightly on the ground, still wheezing. 

“What’s it to you, bloodfucker?” Alyssa snapped. Steve recognized the insult, and let it sink in a moment before smiling with new wonder at Alyssa.

“Indeed, you are,” Steve said, noting her growing growl. “Alyssa, do me a favor. Go back to your camp, leave dumbass here, and tell Jordan—”

“No,” Alyssa growled with her small fanged teeth, as Tom started to regain his breath, “Your little compulsion doesn’t work on me. We’re rescuing Tom’s useless human friends.” Tom pulled himself to his feet as Steve sighed, looking at Alyssa with frustration.

“Dianite’s going to kill me,” Steve muttered, “Look, the vampires have already begun attacking—or rather infiltrating. They’re going to notice you two,” Steve said.

“Come with us and help me get my two friends,” Tom said, sucking in a breath and absently adjusting his grievously wounded ego and manhood. “Then we’ll be out of here.”

“Why the hell would I do that, mate?” Steve questioned.

“Because then I’ll be out of the woods faster and Dianite and Mot will never know,” Alyssa said.

“Dianite will know,” Steve said, but resigned, he sighed. “Fine, but don’t do anything especially stupid.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> None of these were chapters beforehand so sorry if its split off weirdly. I read fics usually as "show all chapters" but in case you don't, I'm splitting it into chapters in case your phone/computer doesn't save where you were scrolled to, so I have to look for the most natural point to split the chapter


	4. Part 1: The Camp Is Definitely Not Okay Now

Stupid. 

A five—wait six, wait two to the power of three added to four and divided by two—a six, definitely a six-letter word meaning don’t do _that_.

Tom wasn’t going to do _anything stupid._

He did everything stupid.

_Roll back._

…

Tom didn’t know what he expected—but a quiet, solemn gathering of people was not it. The lake house grounds already seemed entirely dead. There were still people—a group was using the grill, but there seemed to be an air of mourning.

And it wasn’t for him.

He could tell that much.

Steve wasn’t surprised. “Great, they’re outside again.”

“What the hell went on while I was gone?” Tom hissed in a whisper as Alyssa scanned the frat boys and sorority girls curiously.

“Well, apparently one of the guys from the…Gamma…Delta…Epsilon…whatever, dumb-rootless-Greek-name fraternity apparently was poisoned. He was rushed to the hospital in critical care,” Steve answered. “Our infiltrator said it made it pretty damn easy to sneak in. They’re actually masquerading as police officers currently.”

“Who was it?” Tom questioned, hoping it wasn’t Tony or Josh.

“Some guy, apparently one of your leaders, dunno,” Steve said unhelpfully and so Tom turned to Alyssa.

“Can you hear what they’re saying?”

“Yeah,” Alyssa said and cocked her head, “Well, some guy named Daniel was poisoned—apparently by mixing a very close to lethal amount of…GHB.”

Oh. _Oh._ Oh thank god. The jackass that outed him using spy camera footage.

“They think you did it, by the way,” Alyssa added, and Tom shook his head.

“I didn’t do anything,” Tom said, and then he checked his memory. What had he done again? After Daniel outed him he had gone to the kitchen with Matt and fumed, poured himself a few shots… One of Daniel’s friends came in and said ‘pour us a few, faggot,’ and Tom…

Oh. _Oh. Ohhhhh_.

He.

Uh.

Yikes.

Tom remembered very clearly now. Matt had just rolled his eyes and Tom had poured their drinks and then…Matt had looked over and he pulled something from Daniel’s jacket laying on the kitchen countertop.

“Daniel carries this stuff with him. Give him a taste of his own shit—I think it’s cocaine or something,” Matt had said and dumped most of it in one of the shots and mixed it with a stray spoon that was probably dirty.

Tom hadn’t thought twice and gave the drugged drink to Daniel and left.

He had murdered Daniel.

He was the one who mixed the drink and gave it to him—even if Matt had suggested it and put it in the drink.

Shit.

Oh _shit_.

“Uh…never mind,” and Tom turned to leave, but was stopped by Alyssa and Steve.’

“Tom?”

“Did you murder that guy, mate?” Steve questioned and Tom raised his hands in defense.

“I didn’t mean to and you know,” Tom said as the two looked at him. “Oh, come on—you murder people!” Tom said pointedly at Steve.

After that, Steve said he was on his own and Alyssa went in a different direction.

He had been purposely left on his own. But Tom had a plan—and he was sticking to it. He was going to find Tony and Josh—he shouldn’t have to worry about Matt, Matt was supposed to leave early so it should be fine. 

It was so not fine. He saw Matt talking to one of Daniel’s friends, and…comforting them.

Did he just fucking betray Tom and pin this all on him? Back-stabber. He helped commit that murder.

Tom snuck around the perimeter of the camp and spotted Josh—thank god. Josh was mostly alone. He was on the phone and facing away from the woods, the closest people eying the grill where food was being prepared.

Even though it was definitely a dick thing to do and if someone else saw he’d look hella suspicious.

Tom grabbed Josh’s arm and dragged him into the woods, tugging the phone from his hand and throwing it away from Josh. Josh—thank god—didn’t flip his shit and Tom raised a finger to his mouth. Josh actually followed him—thank god.

“Okay, this is going to sound crazy, but Josh, vampires are about to attack the lake house,” Tom said, and Josh looked back in the direction of his phone on the ground ten feet away from him.

“Okay,” Josh said, and he looked Tom up and down. “What the hell are you wearing? And what happened last night? Tony and I went to seven-eleven for drinks. We met a cute cashier there, by the way,” Josh said, leaning against the tree as Tom sighed.

Of course, Josh and Tony missed it.

“Daniel outed me as gay—even though I’m pan—to everyone,” Tom said, and Josh let out a low whistle.

“Is that why you murdered him?” Josh questioned.

“No—I didn’t murder him. It was Matt that added the stuff from Daniel’s jacket into the drink,” Tom explained quickly, “Anyway, you and Tony need to come with me and…hold on? How the fuck are you not surprised by vampires,” Tom questioned and Josh shrugged, rubbing the side of his neck where his collar was popped up.

“Guess you can say I’ve always believed in them to a degree, and this isn’t the first event to confirm they’re real,” Josh said, putting his hands in his pockets as Tom just considered his ominous words. 

“I don’t know what that even means, but we need to grab Tony and leave,” Tom demanded. Josh nodded, picking up his phone and quickly texting the person he had just been on the phone with.

“Cool, I’ll text him. Your phone was thrown in the lake by the way—everyone sort of hates your guts,” Josh mentioned, and Tom just shook his head.

“We can worry about that later. Go get Tony,” Tom said, and Josh shrugged, way too goddamn nonchalant. Tom watched Josh leave warily, considering his options slowly and carefully. He could just wait in this area—it wasn’t like there was a manhunt going for him.

“Is that motherfucking Tom?!” came a shout—and it wasn’t from Josh. Josh hadn’t sold him out. 

It was a guy beside Steve, who had his arms crossed and was looking amused. He had told one of the football player jocks whose dad still took him hunting every other weekend. It wasn’t like he’d have his gun on him, right?

Someone handed the guy his gun and Tom had just enough time to duck behind a tree as a bullet came tearing through the air right where his head had been. 

“After him!” Yelled one of the smart-asses at the grill. “He killed my best friend!”

“Shit. Shit. Shit. Fuck. Fuck you, Steve. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck this all so much,” Tom yelled as he took off running. He was not going to be able to outrun a guy with guns and a jock with a gun. Heart pounding in his ears, he took off as fast as he could—avoiding tripping as he didn’t even spare a glance behind him as he tried as hard as he could to avoid being murdered too.

“It was Matt’s fault!” Tom yelled, as he ran. Wasting precious breath as he sucked one in and exhaled quickly. He was going to die. Not even to vampires or werewolves, but to frat boys.

He had never run this hard in his life and his legs were burning and the sweats weren’t helping, and his balls felt way too loose to be running this fast and god—why did that thought hit him—he was going to fucking die.

As he was running, he caught sight of something. 

A very small wolf.

Tom couldn’t guess who the fuck it was, because he had a gut feeling it wasn’t Alyssa.

And he was proven it wasn’t when Alyssa nearly crashed into him heading in the direction of the frat boys. She saw him and followed him, keeping up easily as he sprinted for his life. She looked at the angry mob behind him and winced as a bullet came whistling past.

“Guess they found you?” Alyssa shouted.

“No shit,” Tom screamed, his lungs burning. “Gonna die.”

“Yeah. You are,” Alyssa said between breaths as Tom realized they were gaining on him, but suddenly a wolf came flying through the air, brown fur fluffed up. Alyssa growled angrily. 

“OH, COME THE FUCK ON, REALLY. YOU RUIN EVERYTHING!” Alyssa yelled, coming to a halt as Tom did too, leaning against a tree breathing heavily as the wolf bought them a distraction. The crowd now terrified as a small wolf killed the jock with the gun. Even though they were set on revenge, they all immediately freaked the hell out.

Tom would too if a wolf the size of a cocker-spaniel decimated a man with a gun.

Alyssa wasn’t even looking at Tom or even applauding the wolf. Tom would applaud the wolf if he had the energy.

“You ruin everything, Andor!” Alyssa shouted as the wolf began to…eat…the jock. Alyssa didn’t seem to care about that and strode over there to the now barren scene—seeing as all the frat guys fled back to the lake house. “I had everything under control.”

The wolf continued eating the man and Alyssa tore him off, jabbing a finger at the wolf’s mouth. “You, filthy piece of shit.”

Tom was pretty sure she was next on the menu, but the wolf shook its head and transformed. A slow process with a lot of awful sounds that sounded like a guttural chainsaw and bones snapping. The wolf was indeed Andor—and he was covered in blood now—and wearing clothes.

Thank god—werewolves were magic and could just poof clothes back on.

Andor crossed his arms and looked at Alyssa with distaste. “There. I proved it you. I’m better. I knew you were going to try and do something extreme,” Andor said, crossing his arms.

“You’re not better—you’re still scared of goddamn spiders,” Alyssa spat, and Tom took a deep breath and then looked at Andor who was standing confidently despite being shorter than Alyssa.

“Did Jordan approve for you to come out here?” Tom questioned and Andor waved off his question. Tom was going to get murdered by Jordan now. “You both came out here after me—and didn’t explain to Jordan this was all of your own idea.”

“Jordan won’t be mad,” Andor said.

“Yeah, because he’s going to blame me!” Tom yelled and Andor didn’t even respond. Him and Alyssa were still having a glaring match.

Tom let out a loud huff and ran his hands through his hair. He was nearly startled out of his skin by someone tapping him on the shoulder—It was Josh—Tony was with him.

“Oh, thank god, there you two are,” Tom said. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.” Andor and Alyssa both looked over at the two frat boys and Andor sniffed. 

“They smell…really strongly of cologne.”

Tony shrugged. “Was worried about sweating in the woods.”

“Ew, they smell a lot like lemon. That makes my nose itch,” Alyssa said, and Josh slung an arm around Tom.

“Huh, I heard wolves don’t like lemon,” Josh said as Tom gladly guided them back in the direction of camp. He didn’t run into any vampires or Steve for that matter—which he was thankful for. 

But Andor kept giving him looks that seemed to be copies of Jordan’s.

“What’s your problem, kid?” Tom questioned and Andor shook his head.

“Your…friends…how long have you known them?”

“For four years,” Tom answered and Andor chewed on the corner of his mouth. Alyssa wasn’t walking near them. She walked a good few feet ahead and was fuming badly. But her mood was more subdued. Andor _had_ showed her up.

They had approached the lake that surrounded the camp and Tom sighed in relief, he could see the lights looming. They were only a ten-minute walk from the fence. Alyssa reached it before them and threw it open and strode in groaning loudly. Andor walked ahead of Tom and then stopped at the fence, glancing at Tom’s friends hesitantly.

“Hey, uh, Tom’s friend. Could you let go of Tom? And just walk through the gate?” Andor questioned and Josh just gripped Tom’s shoulders firmer.

“Nope!” Josh said and Andor looked dubiously at Tom.

“Hey, uh, Tom. Can you…not enter,” Andor said. Tom just shook his head. 

“I’ve got a point to prove to Jordan—and I’ve got it,” Tom walked towards the entrance and felt Josh hesitate.”

“Don’t worry, we’re safe in here from the vampires,” Tom said, “it’s just werewolves. Come on, Josh. And Tony of course.”

Tony and Josh exchanged glances. “Tom, say: ‘come in, Josh and Tony,’” Tony said. 

Andor balked. “Tom—whatever you do, don’t—”

“What? Yeah, of course. Come in Josh—” Andor managed to cut Tom off at that, pulling Tom away from Josh and Tony and slapping a hand over Tom’s mouth, but it was too late. Josh stepped over the imaginary border and then turned to Tony.

“Come in, Tony,” Josh said, and Tom pulled himself away from Andor, looking at the werewolf in surprise.

“What’s your problem?” Tom questioned and without another word, Andor took off—likely in search of Jordan. Josh helped Tom up, putting a hand on Tom’s shoulder and shaking his head.

“Tom, you’re a bit dense at times,” Josh said.

Tom took a second to realize Josh had fangs.

“Oh,” Tom said. “Oh…”

“We weren’t fully-fledged vampires—we need to drink blood for that. From someone living—that’s human,” Tony said, putting his hand on Tom’s other shoulder.

“Oh,” Tom said, and then tried to make a run for it.

He didn’t move an inch and he felt two sets of fangs tear into his skin. Holy shit, he was going to die. As he began to feel blood loss Josh and Tony stopped as Tom fell to the ground, bleeding out. He put a hand on his neck, trying to stop the blood flow and didn’t find himself with enough energy to see where Josh and Tony were going. But he did see Dianite walk right past him.

Oh. 

He definitely had done something very stupid. 

Steve even walked by him as Tom choked on his blood and smiled down at Tom. 

“Pleasure doing business with you, consider this repayment,” and Steve poured a shot-glass mixed with something into his mouth. 

Already in danger of suffocating on his blood, Tom swallowed and the burning sensation in his throat worsened. The vampires had disappeared, and Tom expected the camp to come down in flames. 

It didn’t. 

And minutes later he saw familiar loafers as his vision began to dim.

“You fucked up,” Jordan said, not bothering to correct himself.

Tom could hardly speak. “Jordan…”

Pityingly, Jordan stooped down next to Tom and sighed. “You were an idiot, Tom,” he said and then pulled the man onto his lap, making it immensely more comfortable for Tom to die. “Well. Here’s your date. You’re definitely dying.”

Tom wanted to make a smart-ass remark. but he was starting to feel really cold.

“Jordan,” Tom coughed, and he was starting to feel numb from the waist down.

Jordan just cradled his head and sighed. “You made me have to make a deal with Dianite. Should have figured I’d have to anyway—just didn’t think you throwing yourself in danger would actually mean danger for the rest of us,” Jordan ranted to himself, mostly. 

“If I had gone with you I could have saved myself the trouble,” Jordan commented as Tom buried his face against Jordan’s stomach as his eyelids began to feel heavy. Jordan smelt nice. He felt Jordan calmly run his hand in Tom’s hair and Tom closed his eyes completely at the pleasant sensation and let his hand fall from his neck.

“Good-bye, Tom. Maybe you weren’t that bad,” Jordan commented as Tom slipped away.

…

Jordan sighed and pushed the body off his lap and rubbed the back of his neck as he saw Dianite approach, smiling at him. “I am glad you saw reason, and neither of us had to draw blood of our own.”

“Yeah, so am I,” Jordan said, and he considered Dianite’s grin a little too victorious. Jordan had betrayed his pack leader to make this deal and declared himself with Dianite. Since he was currently in charge of the camp alongside Sonja (and technically Andor who was too young to have any controlling effects) the rest of the camp had to also align themselves with Dianite—even though most of them, save one cabin of fifteen-year-olds disagreed with this decision, but until Martha or Ianite came back and challenged and beat Jordan—which both easily would—everyone had to comply with Jordan’s decision.

Steve had walked over to Dianite’s right-hand side and glanced down at Tom, innocently enough. “You let a murderer in your camp, but he killed some right awful trash. Maybe accidentally, but I can’t stand people like the one he killed,” Steve remarked.

Jordan just shrugged. “Well, Tom’s wasn’t entirely bad—but he’s dead now so…”

“About that,” Steve said and Diainite’s grin slid into a smirk.

Jordan looked at the vampires and then at the man on the ground. His expression twisted into one of horror. He knew what it meant.

“Please, just let me stake him or burn his corpse,” Jordan begged and Dianite wrapped an arm around Jordan. 

“Oh, you remember that one paragraph that states you can’t kill any vampires without our express permission—you don’t have it.”

Jordan groaned as Tom began to stir and Steve smiled at Dianite. “Going to take the fledgling and the others to feed, you and the wolf work out the details more,” Steve said as Tom’s eyes opened and the man grasped at his wound and his body in surprise.

“Jordan!” Were the first words out of his mouth. “You still owe me the date.”

“No!” Jordan said quickly. Turning to Dianite he growled. “You’re the goddamn Devil.”

“That, I am,” Dianite said, leading Jordan away to talk details as Tom got up. 

…

Tom turned to Steve, raising an eyebrow. “I thought you gave me something to die faster,” Tom remarked as Tony and Josh caught up to them, and Steve leaned back on his feet. “You literally tried to get me killed.”

Steve shrugged. “Call it a test. We’ll see how our investment pays off.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And just because I'll never likely ever resume this looking at my history of WIP, a teaser for the part 2 that will never be. Where old lovers return to cause strife between the...reluctant soon-to-go-on-a-daters?


	5. Part II: Bloodf*ckers

Tom was 100% sure Jordan didn’t just hate him, but now the man was actively trying to find a way for Tom to die. Tom wasn’t as scared by that notion anymore—he wasn’t very good at being a vampire yet, but he could fight Jordan for real now and that was always a valid deal.

He was pumped after all that blood last night and Tom gleefully plopped himself at the table with the hilarious fifteen-year-olds from yesterday as Sonja and Jordan argued, Sonja nearly tearing her hair out as Jordan crossed his arms and tried to be impassive, but Tom could see that tic in the corner of his mouth, giving away how upset he was.

The other counselors were in chaos—desperately trying to act normal despite the vampires that none-too casually intruded. Out of the dozen or so, besides Steve, Dianite, Tony and Josh, and a few others—there was a particular group that called themselves the SP7. What that stood for, no one knew. But there was one that always seemed to be narrating everything that could or possibly would happen in a sardonic tone. 

The fifteen-year-olds took in Tom’s vampire status with gleeful money being passed around and smirks. “I called it,” Phil said, and Matt swung a hand around to slap him. James was resting his head on his hands and gushing.

“This is truly wonderful—I’ve always wanted to be friends with a vampire! But mother and father said it would result in nothing good,” James swelled. “How’s it feel? What’s being a vampire like compared to human?” 

Tom considered it. “Well, I feel like I haven’t slept at all and I’m running on caffeine,” Tom decided and the attentive werewolves nodded vigorously. He even noticed a few curious stares from other pups at the younger tables. “Guess it feels…about the same.”

There was a collective gasp of disappointment. “You mean you don’t feel like you could do incredible and awesome things?!”

“No, but I am hungry—can I still eat? Can vampires eat? I could go for a fruit salad, but I could settle for a Naked juice,” Tom remarked and he wasn’t too surprised when Tony and Josh invited themselves to his table. 

“Glad we’re sitting with high-schoolers now,” Tony said offhand to Tom, before looking at the teens eying him. “You aren’t scared of vampires?” he questioned the young werewolves—who shook their head, eager for more information.

“We can’t eat,” Josh said, “We’re mostly dead—you’ll end up vomiting,” Josh said, “But you can drink poisons and alcohol now and not die—you’ll still vomit though.” The werewolf boys and girl nodded enthusiastically.

Furia inquisitively leaned forward on the table, her eyes burning into Josh’s. “Very important question—does blood still run through your body?”

“I don’t know,” Josh admitted.

“Well, are you able to get hard or not?” Furia questioned and the other boys guffawed as her eyes sparkled as she managed to make both Josh and Tony very uncomfortable.

“I feel very uncomfortable answering that question—especially since you’re a…kid,” Josh said.

Alyssa had seen Tom and escaped the grasp of a nervous counselor to plop herself down at the now very crowded table. “Yeah, I want to know too.”

“No. Noooooo. No,” Tony said, shaking his head, and he turned to Tom. “Hey, Tom, can we speak to you about—” 

He was cut off as he yelped in pain as a fork was impaled through his hand. Apparently, blood and pain receptors still ran through his system, because he was bleeding from the hand. Not as much as he should be—but he was bleeding nonetheless. He pulled the fork out and threw it viciously back at the werewolf teens who dodged as it impaled itself in the wall. Immediately, Capsize was on her way over—cautiously fuming at the perceived threat of the angry vampire.

Tom was laughing hard and Furia leaned back in her chair, smirking. “So, it’ll take twice as long for any of you to get hard—sucks to be you,” she muttered and James low-fived her as the wolf teens all watched the catastrophe as Tony fuming to Josh who was trying to get him under control. 

Capsize looked ready to bite and in an instant, Steve had pulled himself from the wall where he had been casually watching chaos to be in her way.

“He just nearly took out a camper’s eye!” Capsize shouted.

Steve put his hands an inch away from her, keeping her from approaching. “And the pups stabbed him with a fork—they knew what they were doing.”

“They’re kids—bullshiiip,” Capsize snarled, shoving Steve hard and Jordan became much more instantly aware and he pulled away from Sonja, striding over to the about to be brawl. Steve had caught himself and was dusting off his already dusty plaid shirt. He looked down at Capsize, a slow smirk flitting across his features as Jordan stepped between them.

“Capsize, let it go,” Jordan said authoritatively.

“Jordan, I don’t care about your gosh darn deal—these vampires are a threat,” Capsize said, standing her ground as Jordan bared his teeth in clear frustration. He started glaring—and you know the drill—it was a harsh glare. It was meant to make her submit. 

She didn’t budge. “I challenge you then,” she barked out and then turned to the counselors. “I declare mutiny and anyone who’s with me, state yourself now.”

No one moved a muscle and Jordan popped his neck as he started growling softly. The fifteen-year-olds had had their fun and were backing up, as were Josh and Tony who were now fairly intimidated. Tom wasn’t—Tom was glad boners were harder to sport now, because if they were as easy and quick as they used to be—he’d have a half-chub right now. 

“Capsize, back down now,” Jordan growled.

Tom became very hyper aware of Dianite—sliding into the room from the side, watching the challenge with amusement.

“I will not.”

“You will be exiled or forcibly terminated from your position,” Jordan threatened—but professionally. 

“I will go to Ianite, and she will have blood for this, Jordan,” Capsize said, putting her foot down.

Jordan growled, but Tom noticed something. He wasn’t attacking yet. He was waiting for something.

Dianite.

Technically, Tom was under the same obligations. Whatever Dianite said, went. And Dianite hadn’t said anything and so while Jordan had some authority, he couldn’t act without clearance. Jordan wasn’t even looking at Dianite, but Dianite nodded—and Tom missed the transformation.

Jordan was Sparkly.

That nickname made so much more sense now.

The black fur was glittering with blue and black shades that made for a rather beautiful coat—someone probably was going to skin Jordan if they could for that fur. But very, very quickly, that fur and the wolf with it was still, having pinned the auburn and light grey wolf down beneath it. 

Tom watched with rapt attention as just like that, time froze and Dianite pulled himself from the wall he was leaning on and walked over to the two werewolves. Jordan’s teeth were at Capsize’s throat, not biting down, but holding. A warning. 

“Let me make this very clear,” Dianite said, addressing Capsize—and then the room in a sweeping gaze. “If your dearest leader comes back, rally your little challenges then—but until that day comes, you answer to me. Or die,” Dianite threatened and a lot of the counselors flinched. A few of the younger kids started crying.

Dianite took his place next to Steve and looked at Capsize and Jordan thoughtfully. 

“Kill her.”

There was a hesitation, Tom saw it. A brief flash of reluctance, but Jordan did exactly as he was told. Most everyone averted their eyes, and it was done quickly. Brutally, but quick. Jordan transformed back almost immediately—magically none of the blood from his wolf form on him, but he did have a scratch running up his arm. 

Tom would have to ask him how the fuck werewolf magic worked that they could come out clean and clothed out of battles, but still injured. Andor had blood on him when he transformed. Where was the logic and consistency? Did werewolves choose to not have blood on them? Did werewolf blood not stick to them when they transformed, but human blood did? Tom couldn’t make sense of these weird mechanics. 

Jordan backed away from the body as Tony and Josh almost automatically took the body out—Dianite sending them one look to give them those orders. Tom wondered when he’d start receiving orders like that too—because honestly it looked both cool and terrifying. The Mess Hall was quiet, save for soft whimpers and some of the older kids exchanging looks and hushed whispers.

Jordan stood tall—well, for his height anyway. With his chest puffed out and his arms crossed, but Tom didn’t know him that well and could still see the way he was looking down, his eyes misty, but not tearing. He hadn’t wanted to kill her. 

Jordan caught him looking and he growled and turned around, finding Sonja who was much more passive now. Their discussion resumed, quieter and much shorter and more clipped. Devoid of their earlier passion. 

Tom pulled his eyes away to look at the fifteen-year-olds. They all seemed to be handling it in varying ways, but what concerned him was Furia who hadn’t moved a muscle, her eyes still wide and in shock. She was shaking.

“Is she going to be okay?” he asked James. James looked at Furia, his eyes were brimming with tears, and he gently touched her shoulder. She flinched hard and smacked him immediately. 

“Don’t touch me,” she snarled and immediately she left the Mess Hall, and Tom could hear the start of tears as she left. 

Alyssa, who had strayed when the fight began had returned and she slid next to Tom, her eyes drifting to where Furia had been. “We should go after her.”

“We?” Tom questioned, and Alyssa shrugged. 

“You’re good at dealing with other people’s problems.”

Where the fuck did she get that from? He only half-listened to hers and now she was making him into a saint. Tom looked around the room and sighed, getting up. Alyssa immediately tagged along with him and to his surprise James accompanied them, having heard the conversation.

“I know where she hides out,” James said softly. “I think she’ll avoid those areas though, but it doesn’t hurt to check.”

Not surprisingly, he had earned Jordan’s attention accompanying two children out of the Mess Hall. Jordan was immediately going towards Tom but was stopped short by Dianite earning nearly a whine from the werewolf who clearly still had protective instinct. Tom was disappointed he wasn’t included in that umbrella anymore. Oh well, not every crush turns into something.

Although, maybe he’d have a chance down the road. But looking at Jordan’s accusing look—he doubted it. Tom shrugged off the look and made his way out of the Mess Hall where Furia was nowhere easy to see. Alyssa sniffed the air and so did James, both looking for her.

“No luck, hard to smell over other smells,” James said. “Werewolves all smell too similar. Humans and vampires stick out.”

Alyssa sighed, but then she perked up. “Tom, couldn’t you use vampire powers to find her?”

“What the fuck are my powers again?” Tom questioned, not really feeling any obvious changes. Did he feel like he could use some sleep? Yup. Maybe vampire powers came with time.

“Uh…” Tom sniffed, and he could still tell Josh was bleeding and he could smell Capsize’s corpse. Gross. So, he could smell blood. That’s it. Blood outside the body. Tom thought about Furia stabbing the fork into Josh’s hand and noted the few drops of blood that hit her hoodie sleeve. Tom’s attention focused on that and he nodded. “I can smell Josh’s blood on her hoodie.”

“Great, you are useful!” Alyssa said, and James looked to Alyssa in surprise. 

“You sure are amicable,” James muttered, and Alyssa bared her teeth at him.

Tom followed the scent, but he could quickly tell it was going to be a dead end. Furia had been one-step ahead of them and Tom had to stop them short as he spotted the hoodie laying on the ground, thrown off. 

“And there goes your usefulness,” Alyssa muttered and scanned the area. 

James picked up her hoodie and draped it over his shoulder, eyes scanning the area and his mouth twisted into a frown. “I think she blames herself.”

Alyssa opened her mouth to make a sardonic comment but closed it. She looked down at her feet and kicked the dirt with her shoe. “Yeah. I would to—blame myself I mean,” she murmured. Tom felt kind of bad and pat Alyssa on the shoulder. Maybe he should have stepped in before it got out of hand. He glanced around and tried to see if he had any super-hearing or anything of the nature, but he came up dry.

What powers did he have? No one explained much to him, even after feeding last night. Feeding was easy—his teeth had some sort of weird mechanism for sucking blood into them and it was easy once he got past the part where he had to fully latch his mouth around the wound or else he’d end up just getting blood down his chin and onto his shirt. 

Speaking of which—he was so glad he had stolen clothes from the suitcases of the dead—especially since they threw his into the lake. Bunch of shits. He didn’t feel regret that a single one was dead. 

Although. He never did see Matt’s dead body.

Josh and Tony said Matt left right before the main feeding, but Tom wondered how the fuck how. The road had been blocked. 

James had started walking ahead, straying past the cabins into territory Tom hadn’t explored yet. It looked like a…rather old playground. A climbing wall, tetherball, and a tire swing attached to a large oak. As James started shouting softly for Furia, Tom noticed something. His eyesight was a lot better—Oh thank god, he wouldn’t need Lasik surgery after all. 

But with that better eye sight he noticed the dirty paint-splattered sneaker of Furia disappear further into the tall oak. There were no low hanging branches, so she had climbed the rope of the tire swing. Alyssa followed his eyes and she immediately jogged over to the tire swing and tried to climb up. 

Tom stopped her, finding it much easier to pick up and deal with the formerly far too strong child. She fought his grip, “No, you’re not climbing up there. Me or James will go,” Tom said as Alyssa growled at him and even tried to bite him. Tom set her down as she fumed, punching his leg. 

It still hurt like a bitch, but at least she didn’t break bones. 

James eyed the tire swing and pulled himself up on the rope. Tom held the tire as James climbed to prevent as much swinging and Tom heard a brief shout— “Go the fuck away, James. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Furia, it’s not your fault. Just come on—it’ll help if you talk about it,” James pleaded, and Tom heard a few warning cracks of bones breaking and realigning and then suddenly the tire was no longer supported by the rope. He thanked his new reflexes, he had just enough time to drop the tire and catch James as he plummeted down. His arms still felt like they broke from that and he dropped James immediately after, but James was all-right. Dazed, but all-right. Tom winced as Furia climbed higher, the remainder of the rope dangling far too high to jump up and grab.

Alyssa didn’t help James up, but did step around him to look at the tree, trying to find a way to scale it. Tom waved her away. He didn’t want Mot’s child and one of Jordan’s campers to get hurt climbing doing this. Tom had climbed a tree…like once or twice. He didn’t’ have super, _super_ strength. But he could definitely lift more than he used to and deal with Alyssa a little bit easier.

So far, being a vampire was a let-down. 

Tom started climbing, digging his hands and feet into the tree and wincing when he felt a splinter enter his hand. “I sure hope this isn’t as much of a bitch to get out later,” Tom muttered and started climbing, feeling his foot almost slip a few times. 

Once he reached to where Furia was he was immediately greeted with a growling wolf. “Whoa—easy there, girl?”

The wolf swiped at him. “

[CONT LATER]

…

When Tom made it back with all the children in one piece, he was greeted by Sonja who had her arms crossed, but seemed more than relieved to see the kids back. She escorted Alyssa off to her cabin, leaving the fifteen-year olds to idle in the lobby where Jordan was sitting in a chair--head in his hands.

“You look terrible,” Tom said to Jordan whose eye peeked out from his hands.

“And you look like someone who should already be dead,” Jordan muttered. He stood up, taking stock of the unharmed teens before standing. His eyes fixed Tom with a pensive gaze. He was a foot away, but Tom’s eyes roamed. Jordan’s shirt was drenched in sweat and Jordan smelt musky, Tom’s eyes beelined to the hairy chest peeking out and Jordan’s toned waist.

“I take it back,” Tom said, and Jordan sighed. He fixed Tom with a dark look, but his heart wasn’t in it--his eyes looked tired and ringed with red. He turned to the fifteen-year-olds who were quiet near Jordan. James and Furia shifted idly, averting their gaze.

“Come on, let’s go down to your guy’s cabin. I’m sure it’s been a rough day,” Jordan tried to empathize, but both younger wolves ignored him. Just nodding in small reply. Jordan’s expression tensed, he looked stressed to the point of tearing fur and hair off his limbs and Tom felt kind of bad for him. He had just killed someone though…

“I’ll come with,” Tom volunteered. He wasn’t sure what else he could do--Dianite hadn’t ever talked to him and he had no vamp missions as far as he knew. Jordan didn’t fight him on it and the two escorted the teens back, passing by a quarreling set of vampires form the SP7 bunch--shown by their pine-tree emblems. 

“Cib stop!” barked one of the wimpier looking vampires.

“Cib stop!” mimicked a tall gangly vampire with a bandana keeping his hair out of his eyes. He kept shoving the smaller vamp, laughing maniacally the whole time. He didn’t seem to be aware of the newcomers until Jordan growled softly.

The wimpier vampire immediately shot up and Cib--slow to react--turned to look at him. “Oh sahh dude? What’s up?” Jordan’s expression soured--taking on the notable look of pained constipation. He kept the teens between himself and the vampires. Tom eyed them curiously, finally getting a good look at the other vampires. Cib’s eyes turned to him and lit up. “Oh! Dude! You’re new right!”

“Yeah?” Tom questioned, and immediately Cib draped his arms Tom’s shoulders and pulled him from Jordan’s side. Parker lingered near them, eying Tom up and down curiously.

“Right—we’re all…” Cib left off midword and stared into the distance, his eyes glazed over. Tom tried to disentangle himself from Cib, glancing anxiously back in Jordan’s direction who had continued walking, completely abandoning Tom to Cib.

“Jordan!” Tom begged.

“They’re your kind,” Jordan retorted, not looking over his shoulder. James shot him a sympathetic look, but he and Furia didn’t budge from Jordan’s side. Tom had pulled Cib’s arms off when they suddenly tightened again and Cib pulled Tom into his chest. “We gonna make you feel all gushy and squishy and welcome!”

“I’m fine—thanks,” Tom tried escaping, but Parker just reached out a consoling hand. He was still eying Cib suspiciously but seemed more at ease now.

“We can help you meet the rest—so you know how it works. Sugar Pine Seven is kind of aligned with Dianite for the moment,” Parker murmured. “You can always consider joining us on things. We don’t have any Europeans on our team other than Alfredo.”

“Gov’na I fancy a cup of tea,” murmured Cib, pulling Tom in the direction of a smaller building next to the Mess Hall—their outdoor gear storage facility. Tom stopped fighting Cib and sighed, letting himself be dragged along. Outside the storage facility, a brunette with dyed red hair was on her iPhone, eyes peeled to the screen. Her dark red eyes hinted she was another vampire, but she seemed content to not be bothered with what was going on around her.

“Autumn!” Cib shouted in greeting. The vampire didn’t look up. Cib slung Tom closer, now only one-arm around him. “She can’t hear.”

“Then why’d you shout to her?” Tom asked. Parker just gave him an odd look and Autumn looked up as they approached, giving them a small nod, but returning back to her phone.

“She’s in charge of like…business—she’s really good at making sure we get blood, and finding a place for us, and a job—” Parker rambled. “So is Jeremy, but he has issues. Oh fiddlesticks, there he is now.”

Tom, Cib and Parker turned to look at a scruffy man with a beard in all black, a ball-cap, and black sunglasses. He was staring intently at the counselors trying to coach the kids into a bow and arrow lesson—every once and a while they all glanced to Jeremy worriedly. “He kind of murders people for fun.”

“He wouldn’t murder kids, right?” Tom asked.

“Yeah,” Cib muttered into his ear. “He kills kids. So do I sometimes. I get dehydrated and…they’re all like…fresh.”

Parker wrinkled his nose. “Can we not talk about blood like that? Blood makes me dizzy—I might pass out,” Parker muttered and Cib chortled. He finally let go of Tom and gave Parker a noogie that descended into just trying to shove the other vampire into the ground. Tom made to walk off—certain if he tried hard enough he could find Jordan again.  
  
Out came a chicken-legged man with skinny noodle arms and a yellow microphone in his hand. He looked around the group with an annoyed gaze. He lowered the microphone and eyed Cib suspiciously. He tapped something on his phone and gestured at Cib. Tom stared between the two, hands hooking into his belt loops as he decided to just wait out this orientation of sorts. He didn’t have a clue what was going on. Cib seemed to understand and let go of Parker. He…walked oddly…over to Steven. “Steve! What did you send me out to do?”

“No, actually, you accomplished what I wanted you to do: not bother me and James for a few minutes. What I wanted to talk to you about was the group message,” Steven’s eyes went to Tom, “but we can do that another time.”

“Right,” Cib agreed, and slipped past Steven where inside a man with a square face and brown hair and glasses sat reclining on a lawn-chair.

He was drumming his fingers in irritation on the arm of the chair and when he caught Tom staring he aggressively shouted: “What are you staring at?”

“Nothing,” Tom muttered, but the vampire was already standing.

“You want to go—huh? Let’s go—I’ll fucking crush you,” the vampire stood up and started rolling up the sleeves of his hoodie. Steven stopped the vampire at the doorway and shook his head.

“Chill out, James,” Steven said.

“I am chill,” James said, and he gave one last piercing glare and turned to Cib who had taken his seat. A scuffle happened immediately there with Cib laughing like a banshee, but Tom’s eyes were on Steven who had raised the microphone again.

_“A small European British Man stands in front of me with a look of befuddlement. Probably amazement at the sheer terror vampires like us can cause in miliseconds, or possibly like Cib he had lost his brain cells upon transformation. He’s a runt of a vampire with small fangs and a weasel-like complexion. He reminds me of the brat of chihuahua James used to own before I accidentally hit it with my car.”_

“You hit him with your car?” James hollered, and Tom just stared at Steven in surprise. Steven didn’t bat an eye—his eyes weren’t the dark red of the other vampires, but a dark violet. He folded his arms and looked at Tom before looking back towards his two friends. “Yeah—no. I don’t want this one here. Alfredo will hate him.”

“Who’s Alfredo?” Tom asked.

“Alfredo is…” Steven started, but he didn’t finish. In fact, he walked off entirely. Instead as Tom stared after him he felt someone approach him. They brought with them a certain humidity—like their sweat made the air more…humid. They were almost soggy—if that was a description word.

“Well. Well. If it isn’t the smelly little bitch-faced boy with the dry-clammy hands and the googly eyes.” Came the most obnoxious voice from the most disturbing faced vampire in the world. Tom couldn’t even describe his appearance—although his eyes did look like lenses to a camera.

“Can I help you?” Tom asked and the vampire did this weird gesturing motion with its appendages. 

“Mmm. No. You are a piñata of mistakes. Smelly werewolf man—my little _fuuuuucksnack_. He’s mine,” the vampire said, and Tom just stared at him. What was he looking at? What was the man saying?

“What?” Tom questioned and the other vampire sighed. It then left—taking with it most of Tom’s sanity.

“That’s Alfredo,” Parker supplied.

“Jesus,” Tom could only reply.

Before he could ponder the strange group of vampires who had forgotten his presence again, Parker retreated to a corner as Jeremy came back, carrying a bag dripping with blood, and Autumn returned inside—tying her hair up as she sat down at a small table where a laptop was sitting. She was tuned out to the world, putting on headphones and ignoring Tom entirely. Cib and James were arguing over something leaving Tom to drift off again.

He didn’t get far before he ran into yet another vampire, Steve. Steve was talking to Steven. Tom was frankly annoyed with their names now, but at the sight of Tom both turned. “Well mate, guess I’ll be showing you the ropes. Steven here said he can’t help you—it’s a damn shame, was hoping we could pay you off some more—we like your loyalty, Steven.”

“And I like your wallet funding my expenses,” Steven said blandly. He considered the microphone in his hand. Stared at for a few seconds and then rolled his eyes.

 _“Today—was an absolutely abysmal day. Alfredo had made the day much worse by setting his sights on his old flame—a small, and frankly non-interesting man by the name of Jordan Maron. Jordan and I had met before—in fact, we had met when Jordan was tearing the face off humans and scarfing them down. We bonded. Jordan comes from a more well-funded group than I and I sought his friendship immediately.”_ Tom stared at Steve, who just shook his head and motioned to Steven. “ _Autumn was overjoyed by this new happening—but she still wears the expression of my parents when they look upon my current accomplishments. It upsets me just as much as they upset me. Possibly more. I had a feeling more trouble was on hand, because of this. When there’s one angry woman around—suddenly there’s multiple. And multiple angry women usually find something wrong in how I act.”_ Steven lowered the microphone, looking bored. Steve just looked faintly amused at this proclamation and Steven blinked twice before fixing Tom with a glare that almost rivaled Jordan’s—not quite nuclear, but a non-too-friendly Wasp or Spider bite of a glare.

“Jordan isn’t a fan of cretins like you or Cib,” Steven said snidely. “Also, the last person that got on Alfredo’s bad side ended up inside out.”

“Are you threatening me?” Tom said, instantly he felt riled up. He could fight this man. Steven just rolled his eyes.

“God—over-dramatic? No, I’m just warning you. Fledglings,” Steven threw his hands up, microphone still clasped as he walked away. “So dramatic.”

Tom stared after Steven in utter shock. And discomfort. And growing jealousy. That _thing_ was Jordan’s former boyfriend. That had to be a joke—right? A cruel joke. Steve pat his back a few times and gestured in Steven’s direction.

“He’s prophetic—they just…take an interesting tone,” Steve informed him. “Come on, now—we’ll get you an assignment. I have a task suited for you.”

Tom hoped it was something cool so Jordan would be impressed.

“Dianite saw you were good with kids,” Steve lead in.

Tom had a feeling this was not what he wanted.

“Keep the kids out of our business—and Dianite will give you far more interesting tasks.”

Tom sighed. This wasn’t his ideal job, but he would handle it. “Sure, yeah,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And if you've never watched Sugar Pine 7, now is a good time to! It has a canon relationship of Alfredo x Jordan. Yeah. Go watch it. I think the humor should match up if you liked the boyish-crack humor of Mianite, you'll like Steven, Cib and James and sometimes their 1% Friend Jordan. 
> 
> Also because it's poorly explained in fiction. Steven is a prophet, but rather than the usual trope of them being mystical, I just combined his actual old job of recording narration for SP7 into a yellow mic into how his powers manifest, because I think honestly, we need to examine some old tropes in the supernatural genre. Rick Riordian had the right idea to let a random girl be a prophet.

**Author's Note:**

> If it isn't obvious, this work has a lot of satirical elements poking fun at some genres of fanfic involving werewolves and vampires. I love that genre to bits, so please don't take the fun-poking too serious and know that not everything written reflects how I feel. A lot of this is over-exaggerated and hyperbolic. Duh. This is also very old, think from 2016/2017 Wattpad? Just no one reads on there anymore. So, here it is over here. Honestly, I strongly encourage anyone not to use Wattpad. The amount of ads is ridiculous.


End file.
